


if not, winter

by knightswatch



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Royalty, Arranged Marriage, Assassination Attempt(s), Enemies to Friends to Lovers, F/M, Family Drama, Getting to Know Each Other, Implied Haiba Alisa/Tanaka Saeko, Implied Iwaizumi Hajime/Oikawa Tooru, Implied Sexual Content, Implied Tsukishima Kei/Yamaguchi Tadashi, Kidnapping, M/M, Magic, Minor Character Death, Political Alliances, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-26
Updated: 2016-10-10
Packaged: 2018-08-17 12:27:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 54,034
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8144044
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/knightswatch/pseuds/knightswatch
Summary: It's simple:Shigeru needs to help secure an alliance for his family.Kentarou needs to keep his home from being destroyed.The solution of marrying each other, however, turns out to be anything but simple.





	1. stay alive

_"I am the sea and nobody owns me."_

-Astrid Lindgren

* * *

 

The sky above him is a black swirl, alive with the raucous cawing of crows that have gathered thick enough to blot out any view of the sky. The first dawn of spring is usually a time for celebrating, for welcoming back the sun and all the light and warmth that it brings—preparation for a new growing season, short as it may be.

Kyoutani Kentarou is not smiling now, and the people around him are trying too hard not to die to do any celebrating. It is, at best, a grim first dawn to have and the air around him smells more of sweat, and of blood than it does of spring. They’ve churned the snow underfoot into slush and mud, exposed to the weak first rays of the sun.

And the crows overhead are waiting to feast. The paint around his eyes has thinned into a stinging mixture of sweat and paint and blood that springs from a shallow cut in his forehead. There’s a tenuous string pulling in the center of his chest, a weak weave of magic that’s liable to snap at any moment, and several feet ahead of him there’s a wolf the size of a small horse, iridescent black lines marking its fur, like a painting freshly come to life, ink still dripping off of its shoulders. There’s a sword sticking out from its shoulder, and Kentarou can feel the fresh ripple of pain in his own muscles.

They aren’t winning this fight. There are other members of Kentarou’s clan laying in the melted snow, staring at the birds filling the sky with glassy, lifeless eyes. There’s a legend that Kentarou has heard since he was a child, boiling down into a single phrase, an unforgettable lesson for times like this—crows come before Valkyries. The sword that Kentarou has in his hand isn’t his own, he’s not sure anymore how it came to him, but the metal is sharp and cruel and will work for him just as well as any other. There are enemy soldiers less than a dozen feet in front of him, standing united like a wall of steel and royal blue banners, rather than an army made of flesh and bone.

But no one is moving. Even Kentarou himself on shuffles a few steps forward to pull the sword out of the shoulder of the wolf with a hiss, tossing it to the ground. He could end the spell and return the creature to its place, inked into his skin and prepared to be drawn out again, renewed and ready to continue fighting, even if he doesn’t have time to let its wounds properly heal.

He doesn’t. Instead, he leans his weight against its furred body, trying to remember how to breathe without the air trembling in his lungs. There are two men standing in the rough center of the remains of battle, an empty circle cut around them, creating a no man’s land. They’re discussing a treaty, Kentarou knows, a retreat. The knowledge is sour in his mouth, mixing poorly with the metallic taste of blood. Kentarou grips the sword in his hand until it aches, wishing there were a way for him to change the outcome of this fight.

The man in conference with the enemy, his father, with fair hair and amber eyes painted dark like his own, has a scowl on his face. They aren’t in a position to do much negotiating—they’ve been reduced to a small collection of fighters by other battles, by the unusually harsh hand of the winter behind them. Surrender itself is a luxury over destruction. Kyoutani Takahashi looks over his shoulder for a moment, enough time for him to meet Kentarou’s stare and allow his shoulders to slump slightly. He turns back to the enemy commander, standing tall and proud in armor that has never once seen the true test of a fight, with a plant embroidered in gleaming silver on his chest. Takahashi nods his head before slowly extending a hand, the frown never leaving his face.

They release the handshake after a short moment and Takahashi turns, seeming to sag slightly against the burden of his own weight until Sawamura Daichi breaks his position to rush forward and offer support, and the sight of it freezes something in Kentarou’s stomach, down to his core.

He’s so used to viewing his father as a king, a man who can’t be brought down—not by assassin, nor fighting against a dozen men on his own. He’s used to a sense of invincibility surrounding him, and seeing him reduced to being half-carried by Daichi is more than simply alien; it’s unimaginable. Slowly, they file away from the battlefield, following their king. Kentarou lifts himself away from the wolf, closing his eyes and breaking the string of magic that connects them. It returns to its place as a tattoo on the back of his right shoulder, a snarling image made with ink and ready to be drawn out once again at Kentarou’s command.

They’re close to home, uncomfortably slow, and without orders they form into a loose marching formation. It isn’t as brisk or controlled as usual—they’re tired, wounded, finding their way home with tails tucked between their legs. Kentarou isn’t surprised by Yuuji falling into step beside him, blood running in a streak from a split in his lip, heavily favoring his left leg but still managing to grin as if there’s nothing wrong in the world. It’s familiar in a way that lightens Kentarou’s spirits slightly, more so when Yuuji drops his helmet onto Kentarou’s head, despite the fact that it’s too small. “You should quit losing yours—you gotta protect what brains you’ve got left.”

“I’d worry about your own,” Kentarou grunts in response, sweeping the helmet off his head and shoving it back against Yuuji’s chest, making him laugh. Tucking the helmet under his arm and shaking his hair out, Yuuji prods at the cut over Kentarou’s eye with a shake of his head.

“I forget how good you are at bleeding,” he raises both of his eyebrows and Kentarou reaches and grabs the curve of his jaw, swiping his thumb through the blood at the corner of Yuuji’s mouth, holding it up as proof. Yuuji just shrugs it off. And while Kentarou keeps on eye on his gait, he doesn’t ask about Yuuji’s leg. The roughness is natural between the two of them, even with the heavy mood. When they return, they’ll celebrate spring, and the lives of the warriors they lost, but the walk itself is somber, and even Yuuji falls quiet, his fingers wrapped around a dagger that Kentarou knows isn’t his own.

In victory, they return home like thunder. With the stamp of feet and the banging of swords against shields, the whoops and shouts announcing them miles before they reach the city gates. In defeat, they return as quiet as snowfall. There are no lovers standing outside of homes, no mothers waiting anxiously for news of their sons. Homes are tightly shuttered with candles burning in the windows, and like shadows each of them find their way home, splitting off without a word.

There are three of them that go through the door of the Kyoutani home, greeted by a mutt of a dog that Kentarou rescued as a pup. She stands, barking once when Daichi steps through the door first before he shushes her. Kentarou presses the door shut behind him with his elbow, holding a hand out to allow her to sniff at his fingers. “Quiet, Freya.”

She sniffs at his fingers for a moment before bowing her head slightly and pressing it into his hand, a request for him to scratch behind her ears. Daichi helps Takahashi settle into the chair before rubbing the back of his neck. “I should go let Suga know we’re back…”

He begins to turn, and Kentarou assumes it’s to gather Sugawara for his skill with healing, but Takahashi shakes his head sharply. “Stay.”

Daichi’s shoulders flinch slightly but he stops moving, and Takahashi sighs, rubbing his palm over his face. “We need to discuss this _treaty_.”

He spits the word out like it's something distasteful, nodding for both of them to sit. Kentarou takes his seat with a frown, his hand rests on Freya’s head when she lays it over his lap.

“They would like,” Takahashi begins, his words a pained sneer. “To become our _allies_. So that we can go into the future and work together—it’s a pretty way of saying that either we agree to being devoured or we agree to being destroyed.”

Daichi twitches in his seat like he’s not sure if this is information he even should be hearing, but Kentarou frowns harder. “An alliance? Like we get anything equal out of it.”

“As a show of our new agreement, they asked that I wed my son to one of their royal children,” he speaks slowly, and by the time he finishes, Kentarou feels like there’s a drum thudding an uneven beat in his head. “In exchange, we will become part of the Westlin kingdom and be offered their protection.”

Frowning now as well, Daichi looks between the two of them, his brow tightly furrowed. Kentarou isn’t sure what to say, and he chews on his tongue until the edge of it tastes raw. “So—they want to make Kentarou a good faith payment?”

“Yes. And I agreed to it,” he sighs, sinking back in the seat with a shake of his head. “In exchange for maintaining our freedom, they asked for my son.”

He turns to Kentarou, still sitting silent, his hand curling into the fur on the top of Freya’s head. It’s hitting him, what’s happening, by degrees, and each one makes anger claw a wider rip in the center of his gut. Takahashi inclines his head slightly, and Kentarou knows he’s looking for obedience, for an agreement that Kentarou will do as he’s being told. When he doesn’t offer it, Takahashi shakes his head. “You’ll be leaving in two days.”

The seat clatters loudly to the floor as Kentarou shoves himself up, and Freya skitters back from him with a whine of offense at the sudden movement. He clenches his hands tight into fists. “We shouldn’t be giving in like this! We can still fight!”

“Is that what you would do? Fight to the last man and call other clans to help you?” Takahashi doesn’t wait for Kentarou to nod in response. “The time of the wild kings of the north has passed, Kentarou. If we are going to survive in this world, we have to be ready to fight our battles differently. That’s the true burden of a leader.”

Kentarou opens his mouth to argue further then shuts it, clamping his teeth around his argument. Instead, he turns and whips back out the door, slamming the heavy wood behind him. It’s dark still, though the first rays of the sun peek over the horizon. He finds his way to the vista that sits at the edge of the city, climbing to the top with using the path he memorized as a child and sitting where the snow has already begun to melt for the coming of spring, arms wrapped around his legs.

It surprises even Kentarou how quickly Kenma manages to find him, Kuroo Tetsurou in tow. It’s not as if the vista has ever made a good hiding place, and below Kentarou can see the preparations for the festival being made. He should be in the midst of it, helping, but instead he remains where he’s sat, chin on his knees. Kenma makes no sound, even when he sits on the ground next to Kentarou. There are wildflowers braided into the ponytail that holds his hair back from his face, and Kentarou wonders where he found them so early. Tetsurou takes a seat on Kenma’s other side, reaching a hand out and touching one of the flowers like he can’t help himself, leaning so Kentarou can see his grin. Kuroo waits a long moment before he speaks.

“Daichi asked me to come find you,” he plucks petals off of one of the flowers, letting them flutter to the ground, and Kentarou grunts in reply. “He didn’t say what happened. Just that you’re mad.”

Again, Kentarou doesn’t give him anything more than a soft grunt. Tetsurou falls silent again, but Kentarou knows better than to assume it’s because he’s offended by the lack of a reply. Anything he says will likely lead to Kenma figuring things out on his own, and so he says nothing.

“They’re sending you to Westlin, aren’t they?” Kenma looks over as he asks, and his lips twitch toward a smile at the surprise on Kentarou’s expression. “It’s not that hard to figure out. They want a foothold in the area—a wedding gives them that, and if they don’t kill all of us, the other clans will trust them.”

“They want a _pet_ ,” Kentarou snaps in return, shrinking in on himself further. He doesn’t like Kenma, of all people, telling him that this is an obvious choice. Kenma has already washed the warpaint off his face already, leaving his skin scrubbed tawny and clean, flushed slightly from the blow of the wind. He still has a quiver of arrows on his back, along with the unstrung shaft of a bow. The arrows are as thick around as one of Kentarou’s fingers, sharp and heavy enough to pierce armor and the flesh underneath. He shrugs his thin shoulders, batting Tetsurou’s hand away from his hair.

“Then go be a pet. People in the west keep tigers and bears as pets, don’t they?” Tetsurou chuckles softly, resting his hand on the back of Kenma’s neck instead, his thumb petting the soft, dark roots of his hair. “It’s a mistake to think that a pet is a tamed creature.”

“We should go back before the festival starts,” Kenma announces, standing without waiting for either of them to follow him. Tetsurou stays still for a moment, and it’s impossible to miss the way that he watches Kenma like a sunrise, smile turning wistful as soon as Kenma turns to climb down the steep path of the vista. Kentarou looks away, pushing himself up as well. It wasn’t important to him before, but he can’t help but think he’s lost the chance to have someone look at _him_ like that.

There is always a celebration for the first rise of the sun, in thanks for it seeing away the darkness of winter. In better circumstances, there would be an abundance of food hunted before the sun finished its rise and shared amongst them. But, today, there’s still a somber air even as fires are kindled for still much needed warmth.

It certainly won’t be the most joyous festival that Kentarou has ever witnessed, and at the moment, he finds that suits him just fine.

 

* * *

The sudden inward swing of his bedroom door is hardly enough to startle Shigeru out of the book he’s reading, though the vivid account of naval battles from two hundred years ago isn’t that engrossing to begin with. He simply doesn’t want to give Tooru the satisfaction of making him jump like a scared cat. As they’ve aged, his second eldest brother’s attempts at playing pranks and scaring him have become less and less imaginative, and Shigeru has become far harder to impress with them. He turns his head slowly, still resting his chin on his palm and inclining his head slightly at Tooru’s brilliant grin. “Afternoon.”

“Don’t be boring, Shi-chan,” Tooru sighs, hopping up to sit on the edge of Shigeru’s desk and tucking his ankles together. Iwaizumi hovers in the doorway, Tooru’s constant shadow, wearing armor despite the fact that they’re ensconced within the safety of the palace, with a hundred guards between them and the gates. His posture is relaxed, hands light on his hips rather than resting on his blade like he expects to have to run Shigeru through. He’s less of a threat to the knight than their eldest brother, at least. “I brought news for you! Ichirou-chan is coming home.”

“How exciting,” Shigeru responds dryly, reaching to turn the page of his book. “He’s finished up north, then?”

Tooru sighs out in exasperation at Shigeru’s continued disinterest. “Yes. And he’s bringing you a present.”

That catches Shigeru’s interest. He shuts the book and raises both eyebrows, a silent expectation for Tooru to finish whatever he’s trying to get at. His grin grows several inches wider and he claps his hands twice. “You’re getting  _married_.”

“To _who?_ ” Shigeru demands. It’s not that an arranged marriage is a shock to him; he expected sooner or later that he’d be given a match that best suited the needs of the family, but he’s scared to find out who Ichirou might have decided to match him with in the north. It’s not as if the Norns have ever sent a diplomatic delegation to Westlin—and Shigeru only knows them from war stories and old legends of the wild kings waging war on one another. They’re fierce, half-feral, and Shigeru isn’t sure he wants to wed a girl who fits that description.

“Don’t know,” Tooru shrugs his shoulders. “All I heard was the first child of the big clan we’re allying with. You could rule your own sheet of ice someday.”

Shigeru _would_ argue that it’s not all ice, but he doesn’t have much evidence to support that claim at the moment. Iwaizumi huffs, shooting a glare at Tooru.

“You’re freaking him out,” he growls, giving Shigeru a much kinder expression when he looks up. He must look less composed than usual, and he swallows hard, trying to wipe the anxiety off his face. “I’m sure nothing like that is going to happen, you don’t have to worry.”

“Why is Iwa-chan never nice to me?” Tooru gripes, crossing his arms. He’s not really fooling Shigeru—Tooru and Iwaizumi are best friends as much as they are anything else. They were inseparable far before Iwaizumi was put in a position of guarding Tooru at all hours, and it’s part of what makes him so good at the job. Tooru trusts him; he’ll take Iwaizumi into any situation rather than trying to slip away from him for secrecy, and in return, Iwaizumi knows anywhere that Tooru might try to go.

Shigeru, as the fourth child out of six, doesn’t rank highly enough to have a personal guard of his own. It’s only Ichirou and Tooru who are considered to be at risk enough to warrant a bodyguard of such high caliber. Being the fourth son doesn’t amount to much, Shigeru has found. Tooru’s smile goes just a shade wicked.

“Maybe you’ll get lucky like me and only have to meet her once,” he winks. Tooru’s fiancee, a young woman from Ryouma to the east of them, Alisa Haiba, only came to visit once. Shigeru barely remembers it, past her silver hair and the way she clung to the blonde girl who was with her and cried as soon as Tooru spoke to her. The other girl had threatened to set Tooru on fire, a threat that was apparently not idle, since her family was known as the _Dragons of Ryouma_. “And maybe yours will actually like you.”

“I’m certainly not looking to your love life for guidance,” Shigeru rolls his eyes, and something in Tooru’s face flinches at that. It surprises Shigeru to see—Tooru has a reputation around the palace for being the playboy prince. There hasn’t been a social function in the last decade that he showed up to without a beautiful noblewoman at his side. Iwaizumi blinks, like he noticed the same thing and was just as confused by it, but shakes his head quickly.

“My Prince, you also had to speak to Hayato. We should be on our way,” Iwaizumi straightens as he speaks, and Shigeru can see him slipping back into his proper role as a knight and adviser. Tooru’s shoulders lift slightly, then fall. It’s not a shrug, the motion is too quick—and Shigeru realizes he’s cringing for some reason. But he smiles, as easy and flawless as ever, hopping off of Shigeru’s table and laughing.

“Of course,” Tooru turns to wave as he ducks out the door. “Enjoy your dusty old books, Shi-chan!”

Shigeru sighs, pressing two fingers into his temples and opening the book again. He might as well _try_ to keep reading.

 

* * *

It’s Kentarou’s last night at home, and Bokuto Koutarou is engrossed in telling a story. The fire is playing with the cold light of the sun tossing strange shadows on the sharp planes of his face, and his eyes glow like embers on their own. The light of the sun, pale as it is now, will remain until winter comes again, only growing stronger and warmer with the change in seasons. “And that’s when Keiji spotted the _biggest_ bear that we’ve ever seen! It was at least ten feet tall!”

He raises his arms over his head in imitation, expanding his body to try and demonstrate the supposed height of the bear. Keiji rolls his eyes, sitting behind Koutarou. There’s a small smile on his face, and it’s clear he’s simply enjoying listening to the story, no matter how outlandish Koutarou decides to make it.

Freya is laying with her head next to Kentarou’s foot, peacefully sleeping after being fed far too many scraps by her admirers. Kentarou reaches down, rubbing the soft fur of her stomach and smiling when she gives a pleased grunt in return. He’s tuned partially out of Koutarou’s story, which is interrupted by Keiji, hiding the last bits of the smile on his face when Koutarou turns to him for support. “Akaashi! I did a good job on that hunt, didn’t I?”

“You were showing off,” Keiji responds, quick and merciless, making Tetsurou next to him guffaw like a mule. Koutarou deflates slightly, and Keiji pauses, tapping a finger against his chin. “But I suppose neither of us got hurt, so it wasn’t all that bad.”

Koutarou preens, no matter how minor the praise Keiji gives him is. No one asks Kentarou how he feels about leaving, and he’s glad for it. He’s never been the best with words, and he’d rather not embarrass himself by just getting angry all over again. It isn’t as if it will do him any good now. Yuuji drops to sit by Kentarou’s side with a grin, leaning down to pet Freya’s head. She lifts into his touch, twitching one of her ears happily. “I bet she’ll like going on that great big ship, huh?”

The soft murmur of conversation surrounding them stops short, and Yuuji nearly jolts when he realizes all eyes have turned to glare at him, pulling his hand back to rub the back of his neck. “I mean! Um—”

Kentarou shakes his head, shrugging his shoulder with a small frown. “I can’t bring her. I wanted to ask you to take care of her.”

“You’re leaving your girlfriend with me?” Yuuji wiggles his eyebrows, tossing his arm around Kentarou’s neck. He’s the only person who’s ever been so casual about his friendship, grinning down at Freya as she sits back up to lay her chin against Kentarou’s knee. “I think I can manage her alright.”

“Mmm. She likes you,” Kentarou agrees, giving her head long, slow strokes that make her tail thump in satisfaction. There’s still a gloom, a hesitation in the conversation, and Kentarou sighs, figuring that at least amongst his friends, it does him just as well to be honest about things. “They want me to get married to their fourth son.”

“The _fourth_?” Yuuji huffs, in offense though there’s still a laugh attached to it. “Shouldn’t you be marrying like, the _first_?”

“Don’t be foolish,” Keiji doesn’t quite roll his eyes, but it’s there in his tone. “You can’t wed two people both in line for a crown to each other.”

Yuuji blinks like he’s digesting the information, frowning just slightly. Kentarou nods silently, glad he doesn’t have to explain it himself at least. There’s things he’s not ready to put words to yet—the fact that he still feels like he’s being packaged up and shipped off to be the hostage of a foreign nation is chief among them. Or how Daichi was made the second heir, in case he isn’t able to return if he’s needed.

But Kentarou is still the first son of his clan, and being abandoned to a prison makes his stomach shake with unease. Tetsurou is quick to distract from the topic—he and Kenma have always been on the edge of _too_ good at reading people, and it’s obvious that Tetsurou can tell how uncomfortable the conversation is making Kentarou. He stands to slip away when Tetsurou talks Koutarou into telling another story, Freya padding quietly behind him.

He’s surprised when Yuuji follows after him, tossing his arm around Kentarou’s shoulders when he catches up. “It’s not gonna be that bad, y’know.”

Kentarou huffs, leaning away from the friendly touch with a shrug of his shoulders, but Yuuji refuses to let go that easy. “It won’t! You’re a prince, so they gotta treat you nice and stuff, don’t they?”

“I’m not going so they can be nice to me. They wanna make sure we don’t fight back,” Kentarou sighs, shaking his head. “I’m not excited about being their prisoner.”

“Well… then if they hurt you, we can just show up and storm the castle,” Yuuji grins, giving Kentarou a light shrug. “So don’t worry. What’d you think your prince is gonna be like?”

“Annoying, probably. They’re probably all pampered,” Kentarou rolls his eyes, and Yuuji laughs softly.

“Maybe he’ll be even tougher than you are,” his grin is lopsided, and Kentarou finds himself laughing along, something Yuuji always manages to get him to do no matter how bleak his mood is. It’s something that he knows he’ll miss.

“Yeah, well if he is then he won’t be for long,” Kentarou responds, with a confidence that he only half feels. Yuuji laughs, bumping their shoulders together with a nod.  
—a

In the morning, Kentarou steps on the ship bound for Westlin with a single pack, his sword buckled to his hips and his extra boots tossed over his shoulder. The sun has fully risen, and the light will stay and only grow warmer over the next several months, and it feels like an odd time to be leaving home. The ship is larger than any that Kentarou has seen before, with straight masts that rise thirty feet in the air with blue canvas sails strapped to them, ready to billow out as the wind fills them. There are two other Westlin ships docked on either side, and while Kentarou knows the crown prince of Westlin is riding one of them, he’s not sure which. The ship Kentarou is on is bustling mostly with soldiers in heavy coats, preparing for the voyage.

He’s eventually gathered by two well-dressed soldiers and led to a cabin below the deck. The taller one shuffles outside the door nervously, staring at Kentarou as he opens the door to his room, raking his fingers through his impressively vertical hair. “I- is this okay, um, sir?”

The shorter one elbows him in the ribs, rolling his eyes. “It’s not supposed to be ‘sir’ when you’re talking to a prince, Kindaichi.”

“I- I don’t know what they call them up here,” Kindaichi whips his head between Kentarou and his companion, eyes wide and anxious. Kentarou has to pause for a moment to think about it—he can’t remember the last time anyone actually called him a title, to begin with.

“What do your princes get called?” He asks, setting the extra boots down and rolling his shoulder once they’re free of the weight. They’re his winter pair, made of much thicker fur and leather to withstand the more extreme cold. He’s sure he won’t need them, but it feels strange to travel without them. The shorter soldier blinks his eyes, looking almost tired.

“Prince Ichirou is referred to as ‘Your Highness’, the others are ‘My Lord’, or ‘My Lady’ for Princess Runa,” he answers, then shrugs, looking back to Kindaichi. “Call him My Lord since he’s engaged to Prince Shigeru.”

“Okay,” Kindaichi answers, turning and giving a low bow to Kentarou. “M- me and Kunimi are the knights looking after you until we reach Westlin, so please let us know if you need anything!”

Kentarou contemplates for a moment asking what a knight is, but he decides against it. He’d rather not start out by sounding like an idiot. “Do you know Shigeru then?”

He’s heard the name of his betrothed only a few times before, and never from someone he could actually ask for any details. Kunimi, the smaller knight, nods his head, the corner of his mouth quirking upward when Kindaichi stands again. “We work for the royal family directly, yes My Lord.”

The title is already making Kentarou feel awkward. He’s used to being respected, of course, but never in such an overt way. Only members of other clans have ever even called him by his full title. At home, the respect they receive is quieter; and he’s never been considered _above_ his peers. “What’s he like, then?”

Kunimi and Kindaichi exchange a look, and Kentarou wonders if it’s something they aren’t supposed to discuss. Kunimi shrugs his shoulders, the heavy steel plates of his armor clanking softly. “He’s quiet, I suppose. He studies a lot, doesn’t cause much trouble. Prince Ichirou uses him as a scribe a lot because he’s a good diplomat. He doesn’t try to stand out.”

“He’s not a fighter?” Kentarou is disappointed, and the description of someone so weak makes his chest sink. Kunimi shakes his head.

“The whole royal family practices highborn magic and swordplay, but Prince Shigeru isn’t very proficient in either.”

“Kunimi!” Kindaichi hisses, frowning and shaking his head. “You’re not supposed to say that about the Prince!”

“It’s true,” Kunimi shrugs his shoulders. “You’re not supposed to let Princess Runa keep cats either, but you still do.”

Kindaichi’s face glows scarlet and he shakes his head rapidly. “That’s different!”

Kunimi hums like he’s not quite convinced there is a difference before looking back at Kentarou with a blink. “If you need anything, we’re across the hall.”

“Right. Thank you,” he bobs his head in response to the both of them bowing, not sure if he’s supposed to do it in return or not. It must be enough, because the two of them turn to their own room just across the narrow hall of the ship, filing in and closing the door. Kentarou can’t help but notice how loud all of their motions are with the heavy bulk of their armor. He wonders if any of their knights can move quietly with that much steel weighing them down.

He steps fully into his own room, sliding the door shut with a slight nod of his head. The bed is plain, covered with blankets made of a material that he’s never seen before—thin and smooth. It feels light as air, like it might blow away before he even covers his body with it. Wrinkling his nose, he pulls the blanket made of bearskin from his bag and drapes it across the bed instead. The familiar material is thick and warm, the bottom smooth from being tanned. It’s comforting, and it still smells like woodsmoke, and ice, and home. Without anyone to see him indulging in the small weakness, he presses his face into the fur and inhales, closing his eyes.

It’s going to be a long trip, he can tell that for sure.

 

* * *

Shigeru feels seasick, despite the fact that he’s only watching ships arrive in the harbor, not riding one himself. He’s been a nervous wreck all day, since the first blue sails showed up on the horizon announcing the triumphant return of Prince Ichirou and the army that he took to conquer the north. It’s a weeks journey by ship, and it’s left plenty of time for Shigeru to worry.

On one of those ships is the person everyone is going to expect Shigeru to marry. No one has bothered to tell him anything more about her, and he supposes in the eyes of anyone else it doesn’t really _matter_ what his betrothed is like. His duty is to marry her, even if she’s taller than him and carries a battle ax at the dinner table.

The ships are much closer than the horizon now, and an entire welcoming party has already gathered down at the docks. Usually, Shigeru watches the disembarking from the safety of home, but today he’d rather see as soon as he can. Ichirou’s ship pulls in first, as always, and sailors on the dock scramble into helping the other two pull in alongside it. Shigeru stands frozen, two knights behind him and his heart in his throat. He almost wants to beg them to simply take him back, to burrow his head under his blankets and pretend that he’ll never have to meet this girl and get married to her.

But a stronger part of him is curious. He’s always been thirsty for knowledge, and his own personal fears set aside, this will be his first chance to meet a Norn. Knights start marching off the ships, different barrels and chests carried between them in pairs. In the middle of the second ship unloading, Shigeru can see Kindaichi and Kunimi walking with a person between the two of them. Each of them have a hand on the hilt of their swords, and there’s a nervous flush high on Kindaichi’s cheeks.

Between them, there’s a young man with yellow hair cropped close to his head, a pair of black stripes wrapping around from temple to temple. He’s dressed much more simply than any of the knights, in a light shirt and a vest that appears to be made of some kind of hide, without any other adornment to his clothing. The glare on his face is the most impressive part about him—he looks like he might be able to melt steel with his glare alone.

Shigeru wonders if he’s meant to be some kind of guard for the princess herself. He’s shorter than Kindaichi, though his clothing makes it clear that there’s a thick layer of muscle on his arms and shoulders, and if Shigeru squints he can make out a sword strapped to the man’s back.

And then, seeing no one else on the ship that he would describe as a passenger, Shigeru figures it out.

_This_ is the person that they expect him to marry. And while it’s true, Shigeru has never had much preference between men and women, he never expected his parents would betroth him to a warrior prince.

He’s not sure if this is better or worse than what he was imagining already.

Swallowing his nerves the best he can, Shigeru steps forward to the foot of the ramp, listening to the guards behind him clatter as they move. Upon seeing him, Kindaichi and Kunimi stop immediately to bow at the waist, and the man between them hesitates and looks at each of them, his brow furrowing in confusion. Then he looks at Shigeru and blinks.

He does not look impressed if Shigeru had to place a bet.

“Welcome,” he begins, because it’s beyond him to be rude to a stranger. Especially a royal stranger. “I’m Prince Shigeru.”

“Oh,” the man frowns slightly harder, and he’s not exactly subtle in the way his eyes sweep over Shigeru. The furrow in his brow goes deeper. He holds a hand out, looking like he’s expecting something from Shigeru. “Kyoutani Kentarou.”

Shigeru reaches forward, not sure if he’s supposed to _kiss_ Kyoutani Kentarou’s hand, and not sure that he would do it even if he were expected to. Kentarou’s hand reaches further forward, clasping Shigeru’s forearm and gripping it firmly. The knights behind Shigeru tense, but Kindaichi and Kunimi don’t seem bothered. Kentarou doesn’t pull Shigeru, instead he shakes his arm up and down slightly, maintaining a firm grip, before releasing him. He glances at Shigeru, then the knights, and he frowns slightly harder at them like they’ve somehow bothered him. When he speaks again, his voice is brisk. “’S nice to meet you.”

Rather than play into Kentarou’s strange, rude attitude, Shigeru flashes his most charming smile, the one lifted straight from Tooru. “I’m pleased to meet you as well.”

Kentarou huffs slightly. They are not, Shigeru thinks, off to a great start.

 

* * *

Kentarou, so far, hasn’t found much about the Westlin palace to be terribly redeeming. It’s a massive structure, built of stone and lined with materials that he can’t name and doesn’t feel particularly motivated to ask anyone about. The outer walls of the palace are almost pink in the light, and Kentarou has to crane his head so far back to see the dark roofs of each spire. It’s nothing like the home he’s used to—every hall is vast and empty, and even his own naturally quiet footsteps echo on the stone floors. It makes him cringe every time, and the only place to take shelter if he’s attacked is in the small stone alcoves of doorways, hardly big enough to shelter his sides.

It’s uncomfortable, being constantly surrounded by so much empty space. He feels vulnerable, like there’s enough space for anything to charge at him from any side. Even the room they give him is too exposed—with a large window facing out onto a balcony and a courtyard and furniture that’s lavish and soft, upholstered in a rich royal blue. The ceiling is more than a dozen feet over his head, sloping into a gentle dome, and the fireplace is likely large enough for him to stuff his whole body into. The freckled butler that shows him to his room after nervously taking his bag, apologizes for its size. “Your room attaches to Prince Shigeru’s through that door—it’s usually used for guard quarters, so it’s a little on the small side.”

Kentarou follows the direction he points in, a heavy looking wooden door set into one wall of the room. He’s surprised that the two of them are so close together, he expected the prince to be in a different hall, at least. He turns back to the butler with a blink, nodding his head slightly. “It’s, um, fine. What’s your name?”

The butler stares at Kentarou like he’s grown a second head, and he shifts his shoulders, wondering if the boy said it before and he just missed it. He shakes himself after a moment, his face flushing. “It’s Yamaguchi, My Lord. Can I get you anything? I could start a fire, if you’d like.”

Kentarou shakes his head, wondering why he would need someone to do that _for_ him. He’s not sure how to politely dismiss Yamaguchi, who sets his bag down on the bed and then begins to unpack his things from it. Kentarou stares for a moment before rubbing the back of his neck with a frown. “I can do that.”

“Oh,” the sound Yamaguchi makes is nearly a yelp, and he sets the shirt in his hands down quickly. He turns with a smile, bobbing a quick bow. “I’m sorry, My Lord. Is there anything else I can do to help you settle in?”

Shaking his head once again, Kentarou wonders if these people think he’s too stupid to figure out where his clothes should go. Yamaguchi bows once more, tucking his hands behind his back and smiling. “If you do need anything, you can pull the rope by the bed and someone will come to help you.”

Kentarou spares it a quick glance, to demonstrate that at least he understands where it is, even if he can’t imagine a reason he would need such a thing. Yamaguchi exits after that, leaving Kentarou alone to unpack his things. It only takes him a few minutes to figure out where the sparkbox for the fire is kept, a small pile of tinder is already sitting in the bottom of it. He pokes around in the drawers and closet, finding clothing already there that strikes him as being stiff and strange, as well as various paper and writing implements. He’s so distracted with exploring the space that he forgets about unpacking his bag the rest of the way, and when Shigeru taps his knuckles on the door before letting himself in, Kentarou is examining an outfit of black fabric that seems harsh and uncomfortable to the touch, eyebrows raised.

“Did Yamaguchi-kun go to fetch you something?” He asks, looking at the pile of things that Kentarou has on the bed and blinking. Kentarou turns, shaking his head.

“I don’t need anything,” he answers, and from the way Shigeru’s face sours immediately, Kentarou wonders if he was more harsh than he intended to be. He frowns, stepping over to the bed and giving the rope next to it a sharp tug, making a low bell toll from somewhere in the wall.

“I asked him to put your things away for you,” Shigeru sighs, then looks over at the outfit that Kentarou still has his hand on. “You should change if that’s what you’d like to wear for dinner.”

“Change…?” Kentarou huffs, looking down at his own outfit. It’s nothing fancy, he supposes, though he’s not sure why he would want anything more extravagant for dinner. He brought two festival outfits along with him, unsure of what holidays he might be spending here. Shigeru purses his lips.

“There’s a feast to celebrate Prince Ichirou returning home. You’ll have to wear something nicer than your traveling clothes,” Shigeru pauses, seeming to think for a moment. “I’ll have Yamaguchi-kun draw you a bath as well.”

Directly on cue, Yamaguchi appears in the door again, bowing before he enters, looking between Kentarou and Shigeru for a moment. Kentarou is glaring at Shigeru now, unable to help himself. If they weren’t supposed to be _engaged_ , he’s not sure he’d be able to resist the urge to punch him. He speaks like he thinks Kentarou is too stupid to understand what’s going on, like he’s explaining things to a wild animal. Kentarou knots his jaw as Shigeru turns to Yamaguchi. “Please finish putting Kyoutani-san’s things away for him and draw a bath so he can clean up before dinner.”

“Of course, My Lord,” Yamaguchi bobs a quick bow before going immediately back to the things Kentarou has laid out on the bed, bustling around the room to take care of them far more neatly than Kentarou would have. Shigeru looks satisfied and Kentarou finds himself getting more and more irritated.

“I don’t _need_ someone to baby me,” he snaps, even as he tries to reel his temper back in. Yamaguchi freezes for half a second in the middle of what he’s doing, his eyes darting over to Kentarou before quickly refocusing on what he’s doing. Shigeru glares at him.

“I’m not trying to baby you, I’m telling Yamaguchi-kun to do his job,” he snaps, and Kentarou finds himself growling in return. He’s going to wind up hitting _something_ if Shigeru doesn’t lose the condescending sneer in his voice. Shigeru ignores the murderous look on Kentarou’s face, turning instead to Yamaguchi and clearing his throat. “When you’re finished drawing the bath, bring up some tea please.”

“Yes, My Lord,” Yamaguchi pauses in folding one of Kentarou’s shirts to bow quickly to Shigeru. “Is there anything else you need from me?”

“Make sure he doesn’t wear anything embarrassing,”’ there’s the quirk of a grin on Shigeru’s face when he turns back to the door, and Kentarou has half a mind to slam it behind him. He’s slightly surprised that Shigeru doesn’t use the door that leads to his own room, but instead goes back out through the hall and shuts it gently behind him. Yamaguchi returns to working in silence, something that only makes Kentarou more uncomfortable.

“Is he always such an asshole then?” He asks, standing in the middle of the room with his arms crossed, feeling strangely useless just watching Yamaguchi. Yamaguchi blinks at him, wide-eyed in surprise before quickly shaking his head.

“P- Prince Shigeru is fine! I’ve never, um, seen him get mad at someone like that,” he’s smiling still, though it twitches nervously at the corners of his lips. Kentarou is surprised to hear it, seeing how quick Shigeru was to get mad at _him_. Yamaguchi bobs a quick bow, and he still seems strangely tense. “I’ll be starting the bath for you now, My Lord.”

Kentarou follows Yamaguchi to the deep tub housed in a smaller room across the hall, filled with hot water already. It’s smell vaguely floral, and Kentarou is reminded of trips taken to bathe in hot springs that smell nowhere near as nice. Yamaguchi hesitates by the edge of the tub, turning to Kentarou with a smile. “Do you need anything else, My Lord?”

Kentarou bites back the urge to say something rude, shaking his head sharply before pulling his shirt off over his head. He can feel the stare that rests on him as soon as it’s removed, and he turns toward Yamaguchi to find him indeed staring, with both of his cheeks bright red.

Yamaguchi, realizing that he’s been caught, looks away quickly and clearing his throat. “I’m sorry! I’ve just never um, seen anything like that.”

Kentarou looks down at himself, and it takes a moment for him to realize that he means the tattoos that cover Kentarou’s torso almost entirely. Both his chest and his back, as well as his arms down to the wrists, are marked in lines of thick, black ink. There are different animals outlined carefully; a wolf, a horse, a falcon and a dragon on his back, as well as a lynx and a fox on each of his arms. There's a circle formed out of runes on the center of his chest, and intricate black lines that join all of it together.

“It’s magic,” Kentarou responds, pointing the circular tattoo on his chest and staring at Yamaguchi when he doesn’t respond. It’s true that it isn’t common to see someone with magic printed into their skin as intensively as Kentarou has, but it’s certainly not unheard of, especially for warriors.

“The only magic performed here is by the royal family,” Yamaguchi answers, gesturing Kentarou at the bath once more. He finished undressing, lowering tentatively into the hot water. The floral smell is nearly overwhelming once he’s actually in the water, and Yamaguchi bows.

“I’ll return for you in half an hour, My Lord.” He departs before Kentarou has a chance to ask any more questions, leaving Kentarou to bathe and wonder what kind of situation he’s found himself in.

The dinner is an unexpectedly lavish affair. Back home, Kentarou has seen more than his share of festivals and feasts, but this ranks with the finest of them. Members of what Kentarou can only assume is the royal family are seated around a rectangular table at least a dozen feet long, with heavy platters of food dotting the middle of it. There’s an empty seat next to Shigeru that Kentarou can only assume he’s supposed to sit in. He only recognizes the other four seated around the table due to the shared resemblance between them. The boy on Shigeru’s other side isn’t much older than either of them, with chocolate brown hair swept artfully over his forehead and a grin that Kentarou doesn’t trust as soon as he sees it.

“Oh,” he coos, his eyes sweeping over Kentarou in the outfit that Yamaguchi pressed him into wearing, a smile spreading over his face. “ _This_ is Shi-chan’s bride?”

Kentarou knows already that he doesn’t like this person at all. He frowns, the chair screeching as he pulls it back to fall into his seat, ignoring the way Shigeru next to him seems to cringe at the sound. Shigeru opens his mouth like he’s going to snap something, but Ichirou frowns at the head of the table.

“Tooru, behave please,” he sounds tired, and Kentarou glances at him curiously. He’s the only other member of the royal family that Kentarou can recognize, though he looks different when he’s not decked in armor and covered in the blood of people Kentarou called his friends. The thought makes him frown, sinking slightly further into the chair. Shigeru seems to be glaring at him from the corner of his eye, but Kentarou ignores him and reaches to the platter nearest to him for food instead.

Apparently, it’s the wrong thing to do, since Shigeru immediately turns directly to stare at him like Kentarou has utterly lost his mind. He clears his throat, and his voice, when he speaks, is as stiff as a board. “Generally we _wait_ to be served, Kyoutani-san.”

Kentarou hesitates, stealing glances at the rest of them all staring at him like someone sat an animal down at their dinner table before setting the food back on the platter with an irritated huff from the back of his throat. “Sorry.”

He barely manages to grumble the apology out with the way it sticks to the back of his teeth like tar, refusing to be let go of. Instead of slinking down in his seat and letting their stares pin him there, he sits as straight as he can in his seat, relaxing his shoulders backward slightly, making himself seem bigger. It’s like staring into the eyes of a pack of wolves preparing to devour him for the slightest movement.

It’s alright, though, because Kentarou has _plenty_ of experience dealing with predators.

 

* * *

“Could you please,” Shigeru looks up from his book to glare over his shoulder, wondering why in the world Kyoutani Kentarou is shuffling around his personal study. “Be a little quieter?”

He’s had to deal with this restless behavior for two days already and Shigeru isn’t sure how much more he can take. He has three more letters to write on Ichirou’s behalf, and each one needs to be flawless not only in diction but in penmanship as well. Kentarou pauses, his hand halfway to reaching for another book that he’ll no doubt flip through obnoxiously before setting it back on the shelf in the wrong place. “Well, what am I supposed to do?”

“Whatever you want,” Shigeru responds archly, setting his quill down with a sigh. “As long as it’s within the palace grounds and you take a guard with you.”

Kentarou gives him a look like Shigeru’s just said something insane, and Shigeru sighs. “I’m not the one who made the rules. It’s not like I want you following me around all day.”

“Then tell whoever _does_ make them that,” Kentarou rolls his eyes, crossing his arms over his chest. Apparently, the spring warmth that Westlin is enjoying doesn’t agree with Kentarou, because he’s taken to wearing clothing that leaves his arms bare, flaunting the tattoos that seem to wrap around his arms all the way to his forearms, ending in rings of black ink around his wrists. Shigeru doesn’t want to admit to being curious about them—he hasn’t seen Kentarou in any state of actual undress yet, and he’s not about to ask just so he can get a better idea of his body art, of all things.

He traces his fingers over the lines of them when he’s nervous, Shigeru has noticed. It’s an interesting habit.

“I should just leave,” Kentarou continues sourly, looking around the confines of Shigeru’s study like he’s been locked in a prison rather than brought to a castle. “It’s not like you can stop me.”

As if Shigeru is going to pick a fight with someone who sees fit to carry a sword around the palace like he’s expecting a knife in the back at any moment. He rolls his eyes, turning back to his quill instead, dipping the tip of it carefully in the small well of ink he keeps at the corner of the desk to wet it once again. “I’m not the person who’s going to be stopping you.”

If it were possible, it seems that makes Kentarou even more aggravated. But Shigeru doesn’t have time to indulge more of his pouting, and he taps the soft feather of the quill against his cheek as he thinks. “You’re more than welcome to try your luck against the knights if you’d like. Though I imagine Prince Ichirou wouldn’t look fondly on it.”

For someone who has spent his afternoon slamming around the study, Kentarou moves with a silence that’s almost startling, going from the edge of the room to hovering over Shigeru’s back, a hand on his sword and his eyes dangerously narrowed. He’s agiler than Shigeru would have guessed—Kentarou isn’t particularly tall or large, but he seems to be fairly dense with muscle, and Shigeru would have assumed he moved fairly slowly without the sudden evidence proving him wrong. Kentarou’s voice is a growl, a foot away from his ear. “I don’t need some house pet prince like you threatening me.”

Shigeru doesn’t flinch, doesn’t jerk or startle away. He’s too practiced for that. Instead, he turns to Kentarou slowly and raises one of his eyebrows, considering. Kentarou’s eyes are slightly wide, alarmed, and his knuckles are white where they grip the leather wrapped hilt of the blade. He’s afraid, Shigeru realizes, and it surprises him.

“I’m not threatening you,” he pushes his chair back from the desk with a little huff, setting the quill back on its rest neatly and shaking his head. “But this _will_ be a much easier marriage if you cooperate.”

Kentarou looks at him like he’d rather chop off his own hand. Shigeru shrugs.

There’s steam practically rolling out of his ears, and he opens his mouth, probably to volley back something even angrier, more frustrated. Shigeru pushes his chair in, leaving his desk neatly organized before turning towards the door. Kentarou, surprisingly enough, doesn’t trail after him to keep the argument going. “I’m not your enemy, Kyoutani-san.”

Kentarou snorts, but at least his hand has dropped away from that damn sword. “I don’t believe that.”

Well, there isn’t much Shigeru can do to change that, is there?

Playing chess with Tooru has been a part of Shigeru’s week for as long as he can remember. He’s never won a single game, of course, and Iwaizumi always hovers ten feet away and pretends he’s not listening to their conversation. He’s gotten much better at it over the years—now he just stands to face the door and only looks over when Tooru makes jabs at him specifically.

Today, however, Tooru more interested in the topic of Kentarou than the game itself. It’s sad, that this might be the way Shigeru gets his first victory.

He’d take the win anyway, of course, but it makes it no less sad.

“Are you excited,” Tooru asks, in the middle of toying with the knight in his hand. He plays black, he always has, and he twirls Shigeru’s white piece between his fingers with a grin. “To show your fiancee off at the ball?”

“What ball?” Shigeru asks dimly because he doesn’t want to play into letting Tooru distract him. Playing chess with Tooru is frustrating at best, because as calm and collected as Shigeru is, Tooru can still read his intentions well enough to lead him into traps, to cajole him into moves he knows better than making. Shigeru is glad this is the only battlefield he’ll sit opposite from Tooru on.

“Ah, the illustrious ball our parents are throwing to celebrate your engagement,” Tooru’s grin inches toward wicked, and he slides his bishop forward, further encroaching on the defenses that Shigeru has set up.

He gives Tooru a cross look before simply sighing. “Have you been gossiping with the maids again?”

“That’s beside the point,” Tooru laughs, waiting patiently for Shigeru to decide on his move. “I asked if you were excited.”

“Not particularly,” this, at least, his mother took the time to tell him about personally. In addition to the fact that he was going to make sure that Kentarou didn’t embarrass everyone present. Shigeru promised to try, of course, though he’s not sure he has that much influence over Kentarou, to begin with.

In addition, of course, he has to make sure Kentarou knows how to dance properly. He’s not looking forward to _that_ either.

“Well, that’s no fun,” Tooru hums as Shigeru finally makes his move, tapping the white knight against his chin. “I suppose not everyone can be as in love with their wonderful betrothed as I am.”

Iwaizumi tosses a small glance over his shoulder at that. It makes Shigeru curious—Tooru has talked more about Alisa lately, and he knows the two of them exchange letters regularly, but there’s no reason for the subject of Tooru’s likely distant wedding to draw any of his knight’s attention. Tooru smiles, bright and blinding. “Maybe you’ll get there, though! That poor girl they saddled with Ichirou-chan seems to have learned to love him.”

Shigeru huffs at that, shaking his head. “You’re good at making this sound terribly romantic, Tooru.”

Tooru tosses his head back with a laugh, nodding as he moves his next piece across the board. “I suppose you’re right. Love doesn’t have much to do with it.”

When Shigeru glares at him rather than responding, Tooru simply shrugs his shoulders. “Check.”

Shigeru blinks, looking back at the board and groaning at the sorry, cornered state of his king.

So much for getting his first win while Tooru is distracted talking. Tooru looks delighted, watching Shigeru hesitate and second guess himself, trying to see how the trap was sprung on him. Shigeru taps his fingers on the table restlessly before sighing and knocking his king over himself. “I concede.”

Tooru claps his hands twice before he begins resetting the board. “You know, the maids _do_ quite like him.”

“That’s because he doesn’t make them do anything,” Shigeru snorts, shaking his head. “And he keeps slipping away from Kindaichi-kun to go down to the training grounds, even though he could just ask.”

Iwaizumi grunts at that, looking down at the two of them with a slight frown on his face. Tooru looks up with a bright smile. “Are you upset that he’s giving your little squire trouble, Iwa-chan?”

“No,” Iwaizumi responds, and there’s the sour note to his voice that he only gets when he has to deal with Tooru being difficult. It makes Shigeru grin, just slightly, at how he has that exact tone perfected. “He just didn’t tell me that.”

“He doesn’t want you to think he can’t handle his job,” Tooru shrugs. “Besides now he knows where he’s going every time.”

Iwaizumi sighs, nodding his head before turning around again. “We’ll have to talk to him later.”

“Ah, Iwa-chan is always so bossy. You would think he’s the royal one,” Tooru chuckles, and Shigeru catches Iwaizumi rolling his eyes, though he doesn’t respond this time.

Shigeru tries to focus harder on the game, this time, to anticipate more of what Tooru might be doing. He tries not to think about Tooru saying that love has nothing to do with it.


	2. retrograde

_"Sometimes, carrying on,_

_just carrying on,_

_is the superhuman achievement."_

-Albert Camus

* * *

 

Kentarou wouldn’t have guessed before he left, that he would miss such small things about his home. He knew, of course, that he would long for the bigger things—for Freya, for the days he could spend out hunting with Yuuji, for the small treats that Hitoka baked and sometimes shared with him.

He misses things he didn’t expect to as well. He misses being able to go to Sugawara for advice, he misses Kenma’s ability to always find what he’s looking for, he misses the ice and the snow, even though it’s spring now and there wouldn’t be any unless he went as far north as the glacier itself.

There isn’t much he can do to give himself these things, and so the best thing that Kentarou can think of for soothing the sick feeling of longing and loneliness in the center of his chest is to surround himself with feelings of home. So with that goal in mind, he has a wolf curled up on the floor, half wrapped around his body, and a lynx in his lap, stroking his fingers tenderly through its fur. The circle of runes inked into the middle of his chest glows softly with the magic used to bring the tattooed animals to life. Both of them have dark lines etched into their fur, matching the outlining of the tattoos themselves.

Both animals are pliant and calm—they’re flesh and blood constructions of magic and as such have no instincts of their own. They exist solely as extensions of Kentarou.

So, when the door bangs open without warning and he tenses, the wolf lifts its head with a threatening growl, and Shigeru freezes in the doorway, his eyes fixed to the massive animal currently residing in the center of the floor. The lynx doesn't move, if only because Kentarou has his arms wrapped more firmly around it, holding it in his lap. He looks over his shoulder at Shigeru, frowning slightly. "Aren't you always telling _me_ to knock?"

When he relaxes, the wolf does as well, laying its head once again on its own paws with a sigh. Shigeru continues staring, seeming stunned. "W- what are those?"

"They're not wild," Kentarou responds, not giving a real answer at all. He can feel Shigeru frowning at him and so he rolls his eyes, closing them for a moment and breaking both the threads of magic that bind the animals to him. They vanish like smoke, and Kentarou can feel the two of them rejoining with his body. It was a strange feeling at first, and he knows that when he leaves them out for long periods of time, the use of magic starts to drain his energy.

"What _are_ they?" Shigeru repeats, approaching now that both animals seem to be gone. Kentarou sighs, standing up and pointing to one of his tattoos; the wolf, shrugging his shoulders.

"These," he traces his fingers over the lines of it, feeling comforted by them as he always does. "It's magic."

"Oh," Shigeru responds, his brow furrowing like he's trying to wrap his mind around what Kentarou is saying.

"Or is that not civilized either?" Kentarou huffs, leaning slightly into Shigeru's personal space. Shigeru doesn't retreat from the intrusion, he never does. Instead, he glares back at Kentarou.

"The whole royal family is trained in magic," his words are stiff like he's reciting them from a speech in the back of his mind. Kentarou wonders if he's going to launch into some kind of annoying lecture about the history of magic in Westlin and why it's so civilized and high class. But, he sighs, deflating slightly. "Just... not anything like that."

"What do you have then?" Kentarou asks, narrowing his eyes slightly. He doesn't recall magic being used in their battles against Westlin, but perhaps it's something subtle that he wouldn't have noticed while fighting. It stands to reason, anyway. Shigeru frowns, his fingers tapping at his thigh.

"I'm not... I'm not the best at it," it's the first time Kentarou has heard Shigeru sound anything less than irritatingly confident, and it bothers him for a reason that he can't name. Still, Shigeru takes a step back, and it's that motion that makes Kentarou notice how close the two of them were. He feels slightly colder with the new space between their bodies, and he wonders when it became the norm to have Shigeru standing so near to him. He's so distracted by the thought, that he almost misses Shigeru raising his hands, breathing out long breaths like he needs to calm himself.

A gentle breeze floats through the room.

Shigeru drops his hands, looking wildly satisfied, and Kentarou blinks his eyes. "Did you do it?"

"T- the wind!" Shigeru yelps, looking dismayed. Kentarou wonders again if he missed something. Shigeru heaves a sigh. "Okay, so I can't conjure magic animals out of thin air, but it's not exactly like I've spent much time learning magic."

"Right," Kentarou is trying not to laugh. They're standing on new ground here, the both of them. They've been alone in the same room for five whole minutes without trying to rip each other's throats out, and while Kentarou isn't sure he would go out of his way to maintain such an uneasy sense of peace, he's not about to go out of his way to destroy it, either.

"So," Shigeru leans forward, looking at the circle of runes on Kentarou's chest. "How does this work?"

He reaches out like he might touch it, then seems to think better of it, settling for simply pointing at it instead. Kentarou presses two fingers to it instead, feeling the constant buzz of magic that the nexus generates, closing his eyes for a moment. The mark is more than just a spell that allows him to use his tattoos, it connects to a greater flow of runes, marks that are ancient, that describe the world and everything in it, infused already with power.

Kentarou breathes out slowly, moving his fingers from touching the nexus mark to touching the falcon tattoo on the nape of his neck. There's a slight pull in the center of his stomach, like a string being tugged free from a garment, and a breath later there's a falcon sitting on one of the bedposts, head tilted to the side as it stares at both of them.

Shigeru reaches his hand out tentatively, like he's scared the bird will startle and fly away, and strokes his fingers down the back of its head. The falcon doesn't stir past a slight shuffle of its wings, and a smile climbs its way onto Shigeru's face.

Kentarou thinks that maybe this is the first time that he's seen Shigeru smile for real. He's surprised by the fact that he _likes_ it. He likes seeing it. He even likes being the cause of it, maybe.

And just like that, he looks away, snapping the thread and making the falcon vanish from under Shigeru's hand.

He's not going to forget, of course, that even Shigeru is his enemy. He's still a captive here now as much as he was before. Shigeru blinks in surprise, looking back at Kentarou and blinking his eyes. They're wide with excitement, and the smile is still there on his face. "Could you teach me...?”

"No," Kentarou responds roughly, though he's not sure it's true. It's possible that if Shigeru learned runes and how to join them into spells, he could perform at least some feats of magic, even if he isn't as dedicated to the practice as Kentarou.

Having runes tattooed into your skin, the complex network of spells weaved from ink that Kentarou has; is fairly rare. It's possible to conjure beasts without any such dedication, but it means that Kentarou’s spells are prepared already, ready for use the moment that he might need them. Shigeru’s face falls a fraction, and Kentarou is surprised that he doesn’t like seeing the look of disappointment that Shigeru is giving him. Kentarou sighs, rubbing a hand over the back of his neck. “Maybe. I can try.”

 

 

* * *

Shigeru leaves his study to find Kindaichi rushing down the hall outside, his face flushed red and his eyes wide like they're about to pop out of his head.

Shigeru has learned, over the past few weeks, that this expression really only means one thing; he lost track of Kentarou again. Shigeru sighs softly when Kindaichi skids to a halt, his armor clattering, before bowing. "M- My Lord!"

"Did you check the training grounds already?" Apparently, Kentarou has been having a harder and harder time finding knights who are willing to try their luck with sparring against him. The lack of fights has made him even more unbearable than normal, and Shigeru is considering ordering Kindaichi and Kunimi to work with him anyway.

It's not as if he's hurt anyone, as far as Shigeru has heard. He's simply intimidating, it seems, and quick to snap and yell at the knights when they make mistakes. Kindaichi stands, nodding his head rapidly. "He's not down there. I don't know how he got away this time."

Shigeru resists the urge to groan, or to snap at Kindaichi. The subject of Kentarou has become increasingly touchy for him, even with his remarkably even temper (or at least his remarkable skill at covering for his own anger.) Even now, he feels the urge to grit his teeth and find Kentarou just so he can yell at him _again_ about how it's dangerous for him to keep slipping away from Kindaichi like this.

He hasn't ever listened to that particular lecture before, though, and Shigeru doesn't see why he would start now. Instead, he starts down the hall towards the wing of rooms that belongs to Tooru, waving Kindaichi to follow him. Even though the two of them haven't spent much time together, Shigeru has the sinking feeling that he just might know where Kentarou would wander off to if not the training grounds.

Knocking his fist lightly on the door of Tooru's study produces no answer, and so Shigeru tries his bedroom next. There's a courtyard just off from the study, down a small hallway, and when Shigeru passes it, he can hear raised voices and the ringing of steel.

He pauses, tilting his head curiously to the side, before walking down the hall. The door at the end of it is open, unusual for the middle of the day like this, and Shigeru pauses when the small yard itself comes into view.

Iwaizumi is there, in regular clothing rather than his armor, with his back turned towards the door. His teeth are grit, despite the fact that he seems to be grinning. He has his arms raised, both hands gripping the hilt of his sword. Shigeru's eyes follow the line of it until they meet with the attacking blade, held by none other than Kentarou himself, of course.

Kentarou has a frown on his face, though Shigeru wouldn't expect anything else from him at this point really, but there's a light in his eyes that's... striking. They're bright and fierce, intently focused on every movement that Iwaizumi makes. Iwaizumi manages to shove Kentarou away, and he stumbles back, panting raggedly for air. Iwaizumi grins, nodding his head.

"You're getting better," he sounds almost like he's laughing when he says it, and Shigeru wonders how long the two of them have been sparring like this. Something pleased settles on Kentarou's expression, and he doesn't look up long enough to notice Shigeru there. Instead, he plants his feet more firmly and gives Iwaizumi a nod, apparently signaling that he's ready to go again.

It's interesting to watch, to say the least. Each one of Kentarou's attacks is fast and brutal, and it's clear that he puts his full strength into every strike, never trying to feint or dodge around the guard that Iwaizumi has. In return, Iwaizumi seems content to be put on the defensive, parrying or dodging each swing that Kentarou throws at him, attacking the openings he leaves in return.

This time, Iwaizumi sends Kentarou sprawling into the soft spring grass of the courtyard, pointing his sword at the center of Kentarou's chest. Both of them are breathing hard, but they're also both _smiling_. Iwaizumi lowers his sword, reaching out a hand to help Kentarou up. Kentarou grips it firmly, pulling himself back to his feet and bowing his head to Iwaizumi. "Thank you."

"Sure," Iwaizumi squeezes his shoulder in a gesture that's surprisingly familiar. The smile on Kentarou's face is almost shy if Shigeru had to guess. He hasn't seen Kentarou smile at much of anything, so it's hard to tell.

Shigeru catches, hovering in a window at the other end of the courtyard, a brief glimpse of Tooru watching the two of them with the strangest expression on his face. His lower lip is pinched between his teeth, and his cheeks are bright red. Iwaizumi doesn't seem to notice him, and Shigeru wonders if he knows that Tooru is there at all. He turns towards Shigeru, and Kindaichi hovering red-faced behind him, a small smile still on his face.

"I told him not to give you the slip anymore," he inclines his head, and Kindaichi breathes out a sigh of relief before catching himself and bowing quickly.

"T- thank you, Iwaizumi-san."

Kentarou blinks at Shigeru, his expression still on the border of neutral, like he's not sure how to react to Shigeru being there. Rather than say anything, he simply brushes his way past Shigeru in the small hallway, making Kindaichi have to whirl and chase after him once again.

Iwaizumi seems to notice Shigeru hesitating because he inclines his head respectfully. "I had heard he was getting frustrated with no one to spar against and I told him I could help while Tooru is off in meetings, My Lord."

"That's fine," Shigeru smiles, settling easily into his more formal persona. For as well as he knows Iwaizumi, it's only in the role of Tooru's knight.

When he sends a glance over Iwaizumi's shoulder, Tooru is no longer lurking in the window, and Shigeru purses his lips thoughtfully before bobbing his head and smiling at Iwaizumi, turning to go back to his study.

He needs to track down Kentarou soon and start teaching him how to dance, though he tells himself there's no need to do it when Kentarou is a sweaty mess and probably frustrated from the loss to Iwaizumi.

It's a good enough excuse for the moment. He needs to clear his stomach of the butterflies it picked up after seeing Kentarou smile like that, at least.

 

 

* * *

Kentarou manages to hide out from Shigeru and Kindaichi for a few hours before Shigeru finally decides it’s time for Kentarou to have a stupid lesson in dancing. Despite Kentarou’s grumbled protests, Shigeru drags him not into a ballroom but into a small armory, tugging him into the middle of the floor and staring at him for a moment.

Then he sighs, stepping further into Kentarou’s space until they’re nearly pressed against each other, taking Kentarou’s hand and raising it almost level to his shoulder, arms extended fully.

"Okay, you need to put your hand on my shoulder," Shigeru instructs him carefully, and Kentarou frowns. None of this is comfortable for him; how close they're standing, Shigeru gripping his hand firmly and holding it in the air, the fact that for some reason has to be doing this at all.

Shigeru glares slightly when he doesn't comply right away, and Kentarou huffs a sigh, laying his hand on Shigeru's shoulder. Shigeru pauses to adjust it slightly before his other hand comes to rest as light as air on Kentarou's waist.

He wants to claw his way free of this hold already. The two of them can barely stand each other for ten minutes, and they're never pressed in at such a close proximity. Shigeru, at least on the outside, doesn't seem bothered by it at all. There's a slight frown on his face, but it seems like an expression of focus more than one of annoyance, at least for now.

"Alright, now you're going to step back on your right foot," Shigeru instructs, bringing his left forward so Kentarou has to move back. The step he takes is too large, and he ends up pulling Shigeru with him by the hand, making them both nearly lose their balance.

Shigeru huffs, gripping Kentarou's waist more tightly as he resets his footing. Rather than scold him right away, Shigeru continues through his instructions. "Okay, now step to the side with your left and bring both of your feet together."

Kentarou frowns, staring down at his feet as he follows the directions.

He is, at least, not stepping on Shigeru's feet. He can't seem to get anything else about this right, but at least he's managed that much. It's been over an hour, he's sure, and even _his_ arm is aching, and he can feel Shigeru's muscles having a far harder time than his own.

Shigeru grimaces, finally releasing Kentarou's hand and shaking his head with a sigh. "You're not getting this."

"It's not like you're much of a teacher," Kentarou huffs in return, shaking his head and taking a step back, glad to have space between them once again. "And I can _dance_ fine."

"You can dance? What steps, then?" He's tapping his foot like he doesn't believe what Kentarou is saying, and Kentarou shakes his head with a roll of his eyes.

"It's not steps," He looks around the room, half a smile making its way on his face when he notices one of the old, decorative suits of armor they have holding a long spear. It's not weighted like he's used to, of course, but it'll do.

He steps away, wrenching it free from the suit of armor and checking the weight of it in his hands. Shigeru takes a step back, eyes wide like he thinks Kentarou is going to run him through with the weapon.

As if he hadn't had a dozen chances to slit Shigeru's throat already. He ignores it, figuring that yelling at him for it will hardly make a difference in Shigeru being strangely afraid of him.

Kentarou closes his eyes for a moment instead, balancing the spear on the back of his shoulders, focusing on his own body rather than Shigeru staring at him or trying to follow his overbearing instructions. It's something he remembers how to do, even with the differing weight of the spear.

It's easy, after that, to make the spear spin around his shoulder, under his arm so he can catch it, keeping his feet moving the whole time. He opens his eyes once he's adjusted to the weight of the spear, but he doesn't bother looking toward Shigeru for a reaction. It feels nice, more than he expects, to dance again. Usually, he has to be dragged into it even at festivals, because the thought of having an audience watch him has always been unnerving.

But, like this, if he just tunes Shigeru's presence out of his mind, it's like lifting a weight off of his chest. The realization that he hasn't felt _free_ since he arrived at the palace isn't a surprise, Kentarou knew that all along, but the fact that he does feel free now is a surprise.

When he stops, tapping the butt of the spear against the floor, his back is to Shigeru. He turns slowly, feeling a flush working up the back of his neck. To his surprise, Shigeru doesn't look annoyed or bored, but his cheeks are red and his eyes are wide. He blinks when they make eye contact, his face going even redder. "Okay. So you can do that, at least."

 

 

* * *

"Shi-chan," Tooru whines, letting himself into the study without bothering to knock. For once, Iwaizumi _isn't_ trailing behind him, and Tooru carefully shuts the door. "How is swaying your prince going?"

It's not unusual for Tooru to start out a conversation by asking how Shigeru is doing, but still, the question sets him slightly on edge. He's actually managing to get along better with Kentarou; they fight less, and now rather than one of them storming out of the room before it comes nearly to blows, most of the time they end up with a resolution. Still, he's not sure that's what Tooru is really after, so he shrugs his shoulders. "It's going fine, thank you."

Tooru hums, shuffling himself in front of the window nervously and Shigeru sighs, closing his book, accepting that he's just going to have to work Tooru through whatever issue he's having before he can go back to reading. "What seems to be the problem?"

"Ah, I was just thinking..." Tooru's teeth worry at his lower lip nervously. "It's hard, isn't it? Having no choice in all this."

Coming from someone who constantly brags about how beautiful and wonderful his fiancee is, this is a surprise. Shigeru raises both of his eyebrows in question and Tooru laughs. "For you, I mean."

"It's not like I expected to be marrying for love, to begin with," Shigeru shrugs his shoulders, tapping his fingers on the desk. "Granted, I wasn't exactly expecting someone like, well."

Shigeru trails off, frowning faintly. Tooru nods and his smile seems all wrong like he can't quite figure out how to make it sit naturally on his face. “So you’re having trouble with Alisa again?”

Shigeru asks, not sure he wants to linger on the subject of Kentarou any longer. Tooru blinks at him and his smile stretches tighter.

“What makes you think that, Shi-chan?” Tooru tries to lilt his way through a laugh but when that comes out strained as well, he just keeps talking. “Just because I’ve only met her once—or because she’s probably not the one writing her letters at all? They sent a new portrait of her, you know.”

“I haven’t seen it,” Shigeru responds and leans his chin on the back of his hand. Tooru is rambling, and as curious as Shigeru is to learn what this is all about, he knows Tooru will only get to the point on his own. Tooru frowns slightly, but it vanishes under the quick veneer of his smile like he’s scared if he lets go of it for a moment he won’t be able to get it back.

“She’s lovely, of course,” he manages to almost sound haughty about that fact. Shigeru nods his head patiently.

“Where did you leave Iwaizumi-san?” He inquires, tracing a lazy finger over the cover of his book. For a second, it looks like the change in subject alarms him, though Shigeru can’t imagine why it would. Still, Tooru holds fast to his mask the same way Shigeru usually does, shrugging a shoulder.

“He’s busy with the squires,” Tooru sighs, waving the question away. “Besides, no one’s tried to kill me in over a year.”

“And we’re surprised by that every day,” Shigeru responds, lips twitching toward a grin. Tooru huffs, but it’s clear his heart isn’t in faking offense, not really. Shigeru lets him get away with inching away from the topic, anyway. It’s not as if he’s ever been very good at twisting Tooru’s arm for information.

 

 

* * *

When the sound of arguing in the hall finally gets loud enough to pull Shigeru out of his study he finds Kindaichi looking terrified, holding his hands out to try and stop an angry looking Kentarou.

“I’m leaving,” he demands, shoving his way past Kindaichi and leaving the knight trailing after him with a frown on his face. Shigeru blinks, surprised by the declaration, shaking his head.

“You know you can’t _leave_ ,” he snaps, and Kentarou stops, Kindaichi almost crashing into his back in the haste to follow. Kentarou turns, snorting and raising an eyebrow at Shigeru.

“Are you gonna stop me?” He huffs, and Shigeru wants to roll his eyes at the challenge of his tone. It should be obvious, by this point, that he’s not going to fight Kentarou on anything. Still, the two of them haven’t blown up at each other in days, and judging by how their relationship has gone up to this point, they’re probably due for one. Kentarou shakes his head, snorting a hard noise out. “I just wanna get out for a day. I’m tired of being a fuckin’ prisoner here.”

“You’re not a prisoner,” Shigeru responds out of habit, though at this point he’s not as convinced as he was before that it’s true. It's rare that Shigeru leaves the palace, but it's not expressly forbidden to him either. It's more a matter of understanding that the city is dangerous, especially for him.

Still, Kentarou is glaring at him, a bag clutched in one hand, and Shigeru isn't sure what happens if he just walks away from this. He may be resourceful, but Westlin is nothing like the world he's used to, and calling off the engagement so abruptly would do more than just end the tentative alliance, it would be an insult to the royal family.

Kentarou apparently isn't willing to wait for Shigeru to think his way through the answer because he turns back to the mission of moving Kindaichi out of his way. Shigeru huffs, pulling himself out of his thoughts and clapping his hands together loudly enough to drag both of their attention back to him. "Alright. That's enough."

"If you think—" Kentarou starts, his brow knitting tightly together, words coming out in a growl. For the moment, Shigeru ignores him. He smiles at Kindaichi instead, giving him a small bow.

"Thank you for your help, Kindaichi-kun. I'll take care of things from here," it's an obvious dismissal, and it makes Kindaichi hesitate for a moment, looking between them like he's confused. Still, courtesy wins out over his sense of duty, it seems, because he bows quickly to both of them.

"O- of course, My Lord," he responds before making his way out, probably to find Kunimi and complain about not getting any help from the lazier knight. Kentarou is still glaring at Shigeru when Kindaichi makes his way out of the hall, and Shigeru is still content to ignore him, turning instead toward his own room.

"Alright, let me change," he hums, and now Kentarou pads after him like a confused dog.

"Change?" He asks, not seeming to realize he's followed Shigeru into his room when Shigeru was _clearly_ intending on getting undressed. Shigeru tosses a frown and a glare over his shoulder that actually manages to freeze Kentarou in the doorway with the realization.

Engaged or not, there's plenty of lines of propriety that Shigeru isn't willing to cross.

"If we're going out into the city I need to look at least a little less conspicuous," Shigeru responds, like it should have been obvious already. He isn't prepared for the way Kentarou's face lights up, mouth angling into a grin even as he tries to look suspicious like he can't contain his excitement no matter what Shigeru's intentions are.

"I figured you would hate breaking the rules," he grumbles, and Shigeru shrugs his shoulders. He turns to dig through the clothing that looks at least somewhat less expensive and settles on hunting clothes that he's rarely ever troubled to wear. After a sparing glance backward, he pulls out a second set for Kentarou as well.

They won't be a perfect fit, of course. Shigeru is taller and more slender, but they'll do well enough for the day. He folds them neatly between his arms, turning and handing them over to Kentarou.

"Go put these on. I know an easy way to sneak out."

 

He takes the two of them through a mostly forgotten garden. It attaches to Hayato's rooms, but the third son of the family is always so busy trying to make someone else notice him and his hard work that he's never made time to explore it. It's large, and on one side there's a rusty grate that already leans partially open.

Shigeru pauses when it comes into view, looking at Kentarou with a scowl. "If I show you this, you're not gonna sneak off on your own, are you?"

Kentarou, for a moment, looks like he wants to snap that it's none of Shigeru's business if he does or not. But he pauses, clearly thinking it over, before shaking his head. "No. I won't."

"Okay," Shigeru breathes out a sigh and doesn't want to admit the relief in it to himself. He doesn't entirely _want_ to care about whatever terrible choices Kentarou might make on his own. He thought, in the beginning, that Kentarou was too angry to be a decent prince; more concerned with himself than the wellbeing of the people that he left behind.

He's not sure when his opinion started to change.

Shigeru pushes his way through the grate first, careful not to snag himself on the rusty metal. Kentarou follows after him, grunting slightly, but smiling as soon as he's through. It seems... genuine in the way it lights up his eyes and teases the existence of a dimple on his right cheek. Shigeru clears his throat, looking away from him quickly.

"This way."

 

The city itself isn't that far from the palace; it's less than an hour by foot, and once they're safely within the body of the market day crowd, Shigeru feels less like he has to look over his shoulder for a knight chasing after them.

Shigeru has only snuck out before with Tooru and Iwaizumi with him, never unprotected. Kentarou blinks at the crowd moving between the open stalls, and surprisingly, he reaches for Shigeru's hand. He doesn't lace their fingers together like lovers out for a stroll, instead, he simply clasps Shigeru's palm in his. "Don't get lost."

"Right," Shigeru agrees, despite the fact that the back of his neck feels hot.

He’s surprised to find that Kentarou apparently doesn’t mind the crowd around him, tugging Shigeru along the line of stalls to examine the produce and wares on display. Shigeru follows after him, and at some point he’s not sure of, their fingers end up laced together.

Shigeru doesn’t mind the feeling of Kentarou’s hand in his, though, so he doesn’t complain. Kentarou winds up staring at a bow, made from yew and carved with various small animals, a grin on his face as he runs his thumb over the smooth wood.

“Kenma would like that,” he says, almost to himself, and Shigeru leans forward to look at it curiously. Kentarou hasn’t, up to this point, talked about anyone he was friends with, and on some level, Shigeru assumed that he simply didn’t have any worth talking about. Kentarou glances back at Shigeru and must read the question on his face because when he glances away there’s red at the tips of Kentarou’s ears.

“He’s—technically my bodyguard,” Kentarou answers without prompting, a wry smile on his face. “Not that I’ve ever needed one.”

“Your bodyguard is an archer?” Shigeru asks, curiosity piqued. Kentarou nods his head, seeming to mull over how to explain.

“I don’t need someone to _fight_ for me, I need someone who’s got better eyes. Things don’t get past him,” Kentarou shrugs a shoulder, but he’s still smiling just slightly.

“You don’t talk about where you’re from very much,” Shigeru observes, and he doesn’t mean it in any kind of cruel way, but the smile on Kentarou’s face vanishes like smoke.

“No point, is there?” He responds, sounding frustrated, though Shigeru notices that he hasn’t pulled his hand back yet. It’s a small thing, though, and he’s not sure that Kentarou is even paying attention to the fact that the two of them are actually still touching at all. “It’ll be a long time before I ever get to go back.”

Strangely, some part of Shigeru feels like he should argue with that, though he’s not sure why. It’s the same, he supposes, as his desire to make Kentarou feel like he isn’t a prisoner, despite all the evidence to the contrary. “I’m sure you’ll be able to go.”

He tries to sound cheery about it, but Kentarou simply glares at him. “You don’t gotta lie. I got dumped here as a bargaining chip, so it’s most useful if I stay here.”

Shigeru swallows his arguments and looks away, feeling his stomach churn slightly. It’s a blunt, honest way of looking at things, even if the bleak tone of Kentarou’s voice unsettles him. It’s hard to forget his own apathy at Ichirou’s dreams of conquering the wild frontier of the north. He never took the time to think about the way it would affect these people, the way they live their lives already.

Kentarou and all of his anger start to make just a little more sense.

He’s still struggling to come up with a response that seems fitting when Kentarou releases his hand and steps away from the booth with a small shake of his head, a frown heavy on his face. “C’mon.”

 

 

* * *

When Kentarou wakes up to a feeling like someone pressing down on his stomach, it takes him a bleary moment to understand why.

There are runic locks inscribed on the sill of the window of the room, strong enough to wake him if they’re disturbed, but when he rubs the sleep out of his eyes and stares at them, they haven’t been broken. Still, the feeling is still there, a heavy sense of pressure and danger that no doubt is going to keep him from being able to find sleep again.

And then he recalls showing Shigeru how to create them, inscribing the same spell onto his windows as a lesson on basic enchanting.

He doesn’t hesitate, rolling out of the bed in only his nightclothes, reaching for the slim knife that he keeps tucked under the pillow. The doorway that connects his room to Shigeru’s is small, and perpetually locked since the two of them simply use the hall rather than intruding so openly into one another’s space. It’s too small to fit his wolf through, and Kentarou grits his teeth, slamming his shoulder against the wood and hoping that the lock is old enough to give under the impact.

He’s not that lucky, of course. But pressed against the door he can hear soft shoes on the floor and the muted sound of voices hissing at one another. With a curse, Kentarou backs up from the door, using the knife to prick the tip of his thumb instead, drawing a bead of blood from it.

In the end, Kentarou is a warrior, born and bred, and if it comes down to a fight he would rather be in the middle of it than see anyone else fighting on his behalf. And so he presses his bleeding thumb to the tattoo in the center of his chest. There’s a brief flare of light from the circle; the runes are responsible for the power that controls each individual tattoo and with care he selects the one that might help him most here. A dragon, carefully inked into his back. There’s a strange tugging sensation in his stomach from the sudden draw of magic.

He’s done this before, but rarely, and so he’s surprised when his forearm gives way to scales, creeping to cover his flesh and tipping each finger with a wickedly curved claw. The scales travel as far up as his elbow, and Kentarou curls his hand into a fist, pulling his arm back and slamming it into the door.

The lock rattles briefly before it snaps from the force and Kentarou shoves his way through the door with a growl. The door crashes against the wall behind it, and in the aftermath of the noise, the room rings with quiet.

Without his attention focused on stopping it, the spell continues advancing, transforming Kentarou’s other arm as well.

There are two people in the middle of Shigeru’s room, and both freeze to turn and look at him. They have black cloths covering their faces save their eyes, and the taller of the two shifts posture when he meets eyes with Kentarou.

“Shit,” his voice is dampened slightly by the cloth, and he continues staring at Kentarou rather than moving, a knife gleaming silver in his hand. “Wrong room.”

“Nurukawa?” The other asks, hesitating. He’s halfway between the bed and the window, and Shigeru is awake now, staring at Kentarou with wide, scared eyes.

“What’s going on?” He asks, focused more on Kentarou than the attackers.

Nurukawa, as the other called him, shifts his grip on the knife, finally breaking his staring contest with Kentarou to look back at his accomplice with a frown, backing up. “Grab that one.”

“But, we’re supposed to—” he starts, then cuts himself off when Shigeru moves like he’s going to try and flee. The accomplice whips around faster than Kentarou would have expected, snagging Shigeru’s arm and dragging him out of the bed, a knife pressed to the soft skin of this throat and his other hand covering Shigeru’s mouth.

There’s a cold shiver of fear that runs down Kentarou’s spine, and he tries his hardest to ignore it. Nurukawa looks back at him, eyes hard. “We’re going out the window. Move and we slit his throat.”

With anyone else, an order like that might not have managed to pin Kentarou in place. But he knows he can’t rely on Shigeru to react in a way that he can predict—he’s probably never been faced with a situation like this, and Kentarou has seen fear make even veteran fighters act in strange ways. Kentarou doesn’t move but he doesn’t nod his head to agree either.

They’re not here to kill Shigeru, he’s fairly sure. If they were, there would be no reason to drag him off anywhere. Kentarou is nothing of an assassin, but he can figure out that much for himself, at least.

Nurukawa eases a step back, like he’s still not trusting Kentarou to comply, and that’s the moment of course that Shigeru starts to panic and struggle against the accomplice holding onto his arm. His eyes are wild like those of a scared animal and Kentarou wants it to cause enough of a distraction for him to make a move, but the accomplice reels him in closer, using the butt of the blade in his hand to hit Shigeru in the stomach, forcing him to cough and double over.

Kentarou’s lip curls over his teeth in a snarl, and he can feel the way they’ve gone sharp in his mouth. There’s magic running through his whole body like a string about to snap, winding tension through all of his limbs until they ache with the sheer power of it. “Inagaki. Move.”

Nurukawa doesn’t turn his back on Kentarou, he’s too practiced for that, but he tosses a coil of rope to Inagaki, backing them both toward the open window with quick steps. There’s rattling from the door to the hall, the sound of hands desperately fumbling through something routine. It’s panic, and by the time Kindaichi flings the door open, Kentarou is half transformed into a dragon in the middle of the room, and Shigeru and the apparent kidnappers have gone.

  
Even after the spell breaks, it takes him hours to calm down again. Kindaichi is watching him pace furiously around Shigeru’s room, something like a growl still working its way through his chest. There’s a long list of things that are making him so angry; that he couldn’t do more to help Shigeru, that he didn’t make it in quickly enough to simply stop them, that he didn’t  _fight_ …

“Ah, My Lord?” Kindaichi asks, blinking his eyes. He’s clearly having trouble staying awake, rubbing one hand into them despite the armor he’s put back on. “They’re having a meeting about what to do already, you can rest.”

“No,” Kentarou responds simply, glaring at the closed door to the hall. He was ordered by Tooru, then Iwaizumi when it became clear he had no plans to listen, to stay put and wait for the royal family to come to some kind of agreement on what to do about Shigeru being kidnapped.

Except, Kentarou is painfully aware that Shigeru wasn’t a part of the plan, to begin with. It’s not often that a Norn chooses to use assassination; it’s messy at best and dishonorable at the worst. But he’s been in enough fights to see a plan gone awry. Kindaichi nods slightly, likely because he can’t do anything to more strongly urge Kentarou to rest, and he’s trying to muffle a yawn when the door swings open again.

This time, it’s only Iwaizumi, without Tooru behind him, and Kentarou doesn’t feel bad for being relieved. The prince unsettles him in the worst ways. It seems unlikely that he’s ever done anything genuine in his life, and for Kentarou it’s hard to pick through the half-truths and hidden intentions, and he hates the feeling that he’s being manipulated every time Tooru speaks.

Iwaizumi is easier. He’s steady, straightforward, and if nothing else Kentarou is willing to trust in his strength. There’s a frown on his face, and his hand is settled nervously on the hilt of his sword like he’s still not sure he won’t have to make use of it at any moment. Kindaichi snaps to attention, saluting the other knight quickly, trying to blink the sleep from his eyes. Iwaizumi gives him a glance and his face softens a few degrees. “Kindaichi. Go wake Kunimi up and have him take over for you.”

“Yes, sir!” Kindaichi responds, punctuating it with another yawn. The sun is rising now, and Iwaizumi turns back to Kentarou with a slight nod.

“You should rest. There’s nothing more you can do tonight,” he turns like that’s all he’s going to say on the matter, and Kentarou finds himself balling his hands into fists.

“When are they going to find him? I should go too,” he snaps, unwilling to be left behind on the matter. He’s engaged to Shigeru, after all. Even if the royal family doesn’t seem to trust him in the least, they can’t exclude him from this. Iwaizumi sighs, and his shoulders sag slightly before he lifts them again.

“They _aren’t_ going. Whoever took him knows they have the fourth prince of Westlin. They’ll ransom him back within the week,” as composed as his voice is, Kentarou can hear the way the words grit past Iwaizumi’s teeth. It does nothing to make him less angry about the choice, of course.

“That’s bullshit!” He snaps. It doesn’t matter, at the moment, that his anger is all going in the wrong direction. Iwaizumi probably argued the same thing. Kentarou shouts anyway because he’s never been much good at doing anything else with his anger. “They can’t just abandon him! He’s one of their children!”

Iwaizumi looks back at him, and there’s something distant and sad about his expression. He takes a step closer, laying his hand on Kentarou’s shoulder with a slight shake of his shoulder. “No one is going to abandon him. This is the best course of action for now.”

He pats Kentarou’s shoulder in reassurance, inclining his head. Kentarou isn’t sure he believes either statement, but he’s too tired to continue arguing like he wants to. “Get some rest. I’ll keep you updated on what’s happening.”

With that, Iwaizumi leaves, sliding the door shut behind him. Kentarou considers slinking back to his own room with his tail tucked between his legs, but instead, he slides himself into the soft embrace of Shigeru’s bed instead, closing his eyes tightly and trying to ignore that without the anger to mask it, there’s a tight ball of concern in the center of his chest.


	3. into the storm

_"we, too, assemble our rage,_

_its hands & mouth, though_

_we must choose, in the end, which:_

_the poem of healing_

_or_

_the poem of poisons"_

—Aracelis Girmay

* * *

 

Once they’re outside the grounds of the palace, the kidnappers slip a black cloth over Shigeru’s head, knotting a rope loosely around his neck and pulling his wrists behind his back, tying them there with the same length of rope. It prevents Shigeru from doing much wiggling, as he’s already having trouble drawing air into his lungs. Every breath rattles through his chest and it feels like his ribs might crack with the frantic beating of his heart.

He’s _scared_ , it would be hard not to be. Without the benefit of his vision, he winds up stumbling over each step as the two of them lead him along with rough shoves at his back. He feels constantly on the edge of falling, even though the ground under his feet remains even and smooth. They can’t be along the road, he knows, because there’s no way to explain having a bound, blindfolded young man with them. It seems like they only walk a short distance, however, before he’s pulled to a stop by one rough hand on his wrists.

“What the hell are we gonna do with him, Nurukawa?” The one called Inagaki hisses, and from the proximity, Shigeru is sure that’s the one holding onto his arms. There’s a pause, the sound of fabric rustling, before Nurukawa answers.

“Don’t know. Can’t exactly kill him, I guess. Can’t exactly just send him back either,” Nurukawa sighs, and Shigeru can hear the sound of horses close to them. “Take him back to Tam Kench, I guess. We’ll figure it out from there.”

Shigeru opens his mouth, trying to come up with some kind argument, something that might sway them to release him, but all he manages is some kind of strangled noise that gets stuck in the back of his throat.

Well, being charismatic is out of the question, it seems. Inagaki gives him another shove, and this time, he crashes into Nurukawa before he can manage to fall flat on his face. From there, he’s lifted off the ground and slung over the shoulders of a horse, legs kicking uselessly behind him.

Despite the dark cloth tied around his face, Shigeru is able to see when the light changes with the rising of the sun, and it’s the only measure he has of how long they travel. At first, being slung over a horse without being able to see anything makes him feel sick, but eventually his stomach calms when the horses stick to a fairly steady pace over ground that seems uneven.

A forest of some type, though there aren’t many close to the forest, and only one big enough to have any actual hideout inside of. After the sun comes up, Shigeru can feel himself sliding in and out of wakefulness, tired from the ride, the lack of sleep, the panic that thuds relentlessly along with his pulse and won’t seem to cease.

He’s not awake when he’s pulled off the horse, and so when his feet hit the ground, Shigeru is disoriented and confused, blinking his eyes against the darkness. One of the two of them grabs his wrists once again, leading Shigeru forward. There are several sharp turns before they stop, and a voice behind him calls out high and clear. “Komaki! We’re, uh, back!”

“It’s about time, did you manage to kill the—” the new voice, Komaki, stops short. “Who is that?”

“The fourth prince,” Nurukawa answers with a sigh, pulling the cloth off of Shigeru’s head. His hands are still tied together, and he’s left trying to shield his eyes from the sudden afternoon brightness. In the middle of the room, there’s a shorter man with glasses. He seems young, and when Shigeru cranes to look over his shoulder and see the other two, all three of them do. “It didn’t quite go as planned.”

“I see that,” Komaki answers, clearly irritated. He pinches the bridge of his nose between two taped fingers, closing his eyes for a moment. “And _why_ did you kidnap the fourth prince?”

“Needed a way out so the Norn didn’t rip us to pieces,” Nurukawa shrugs, mouth splitting open in a long yawn. “He wasn’t in the right room, probably heard us come in.”

“Y- you wanted to kill Kyoutani?” Shigeru’s voice cracks slightly when he speaks, and he finds himself staring back when the three of them turn to look at him. Komaki shrugs a shoulder.

“It’s not personal. It’s a job,” he sighs, looking back at Inagaki. “Put him in Makado’s room for now until we figure out what to do with him.”

“Sure thing, boss,” Inagaki responds, shoving Shigeru along again. It’s easier to walk now that he can see, and the room Shigeru is led to is… surprisingly nice for what seems to be a large cabin in the middle of the woods. There is a heavy oak door and a neatly made pallet bed, without anything Shigeru would consider personal possessions or even clothing.

“Uh, you can sleep in here, I guess,” Inagaki chuckles slightly, drawing a knife from his sleeve. Shigeru starts to flinch away until he does nothing more than cut away the ropes, careful not to knick Shigeru’s skin in the process.

If anything, that leaves Shigeru more confused, and he forgets to actually step inside the room because he’s so caught staring at Inagaki. He’s fairly tall, though not much taller than Shigeru, with tan skin and dark hair cut messily around his face.

“We’re not gonna hurt you or anything,” Inagaki almost laughs as he says it, warm and easy. “Like Komaki said, it was just a job. We got nothin’ to gain from hurting you.”

“But I can’t go home?” Shigeru asks slowly, and Inagaki ducks his head just a little.

“I dunno. I’m not the one to ask,” he shrugs one shoulder, gesturing at the bed. “Get some rest, don’t do anything stupid like try and run. Komaki will probably come talk to you later.”

With that, he nudges Shigeru past the threshold of the door and swings the door firmly shut. There’s no sound to indicate it locking, but Shigeru is fairly confident that he won’t get far even if he tries.

So, with nothing better to do, he sits down on the bed to contemplate what his fate might be.

At this point, he finds that he’s less concerned with himself, however, and more worried about why someone would send people to kill Kentarou.

 

He doesn’t manage to doze off, too tense in the unfamiliar setting, but when Komaki does enter the room, Shigeru has his calm mask firmly in place, staring at the apparent leader with evaluating eyes. He’s not surprised to get the same look in return, but he can tell already that Komaki is nowhere near as sharp with people as Tooru, so Shigeru already has the advantage.

“We’re not going to kill you,” he starts with, pressing the door shut again with his foot. He frowns when Shigeru doesn’t react to the declaration. “Provided your family is willing to pay a ransom, you’ll be home within a week.”

“What about Kyoutani?” Shigeru asks calmly, resisting the urge to tap his fingers nervously. He can’t give away his concern here, not if he wants to get any real information out of them.

“The Norn prince? Depends, I suppose. Employer might change their mind about killing him—that’s not up to me, though,” Komaki scowls slightly. “I’m not tellin’ you who it is, either.”

“Of course not,” Shigeru gives his most diplomatic smile. It’s probably a wan imitation of Tooru’s, but for the moment Shigeru is willing to set aside all the ways he’ll never live up to his brother. “I wouldn’t expect you to give away such sensitive information.”

Komaki’s eyes narrow, like that wasn’t the answer that he was expecting to get. “Right. We’ll bring you food after our usual mealtime, and if you don’t cause any trouble no one will hurt you. That understood?”

It seems they aren’t very used to having prisoners around here. Shigeru nods his head, offering easy compliance.

He got several talks as a child on what to do if someone did kidnap him—all of them did, before they realized their rankings mattered just as much to the outside world as they did to the family itself.

As the fourth prince, Shigeru isn’t much of a target for anything, and he has his doubts that his family would even pay much to have him safely returned. Certainly not what they would pay for Ichirou or even Tooru.

He's content to keep that doubt to himself, though. Even if he wasn't kidnapped with a ransom in mind, it seems unlikely they're just going to let him go without getting something in return. Shigeru is content, for now at least, to play the peaceful captive. He has no reason to cause them trouble, to fight back or make threats—it’ll be easier for him, he’s sure if he doesn’t make himself stand out.

And if there’s one thing he’s always been good at, it’s making sure people only see him the way that he wants them to.

 

 

* * *

It’s two days before it becomes obvious to Kentarou that debating on how much ransom a fourth son is worth is clearly worth more to Shigeru’s family than actually getting him back. It’s two days in which he does nothing but seethe and tell himself it’s only because he knows the feeling of being traded away for something more valuable. He doesn’t like it, the idea that Shigeru’s life isn’t worth enough to his family to actually pay the ransom. Worse than that, he can’t seem to let go of the anxiety fluttering in his chest—Kentarou has never been one to sit around and dream up worse case scenarios. He’s not prone to extended worrying; he has always preferred to act first, and let fate fall into place behind him.

It’s two days before it all becomes too much, and Kentarou finds himself sneaking out in the middle of the night down the same path that Shigeru showed him before, through the small overgrown garden and out the slightly askew grate. Two days is longer than he would want to wait, usually, before trying to track something so important, but it’s not enough to be able to stop him by any means.

It’s dark, with only a sliver of moonlight hanging high in the sky, barely casting a glow over the world. Once he’s free of the constraints of the palace, part of Kentarou’s mind wonders if he even needs to go back…

He banishes it quickly, however. There’s too much at stake for him to simply run away and refuse to return, no matter how tempting the idea sounds. Instead, he pulls a deep breath of warm summer air into his lungs and closes his eyes, focusing for a brief moment. He brings out both the wolf, to track where they may have taken Shigeru and a horse with eight legs standing patiently next to him. He’ll need the extra speed, he’s sure, though his sudden absence isn’t likely to be noticed until morning.

It’s not hard, to command the wolf to hunt for Shigeru’s scent, nor is it hard to direct the horse behind it. It still feels like a long ride, away from the palace itself and into the woods until the pale spires have faded into the darkness of the night behind him.

The woods is larger than Kentarou expects it to be, and it only gets darker the deeper he goes. Still, the wolf isn’t bothered by the darkness but because of the extra legs the horse has to pick more carefully over the uneven terrain. There’s light beginning to stream through the trees when the wolf stops, hunkered behind a bush and growling at a sizable cabin hidden in between the trees. There’s no sign of a guard standing outside, but Kentarou edges toward the building warily. He maintains the connection with the wolf, though the horse is quickly dismissed until he reaches the apparent front door of the building.

From here, Kentarou wishes distantly that he had Kenma on hand for a little advice on subtlety. As it is, Kentarou shoves the door out of the way with his shoulder with all the quiet of a thundering storm, making the lock snap and the door swing inward with a crash. He draws his sword from his hip before the sound has entirely faded, listening for footsteps around him, any signs of movement.

Hearing none, he presses onward in the cabin. It would be easier, possibly, to send something like the fox or the lynx to search for Shigeru, but Kentarou runs the risk of either of them being easily injured or killed—something that would hurt him significantly as well. He’s forced, instead, to do it the old fashioned way; shoving open every door until he manages to find Shigeru, hopefully, alive and not with a knife to his throat this time.

The first doors he opens appear to go nowhere in particular—small rooms that must house various assassins, some kind of office, nothing that gives him any indication of where Shigeru might be. What’s more surprising, and strange, is that he doesn’t seem to run across anyone while searching. The building itself looks recently lived in but apparently empty, and that sets Kentarou more on edge than anything else.

He finds Shigeru sitting in the corner of what appears to be a bedroom. He’s calmer, at least than the last time Kentarou saw him, with his wrists messily roped together behind him and a knotted piece of fabric shoved between his teeth to serve as a gag. He looks almost surprised to see Kentarou there, blinking his eyes rapidly, brows creeping together.

Kentarou doesn't want to admit that he sighs out in relief at seeing Shigeru in one piece, without bruises on his face. He kicks the door shut behind him, kneeling down and pulling the gag out of his mouth before reaching around him to untie his hands as well. He can almost hear Shigeru's heartbeat when he leans forward.

As soon as his hands are free, Shigeru shoves him back to arm’s length by his shoulders, shaking his head. "What are you doing here?"

"It's a rescue, obviously," Kentarou snorts, wondering how low Shigeru must think of him to assume he wouldn't come to help. Kentarou is a warrior, first and foremost, and even if he can barely get along with Shigeru he's certainly not going to let anyone kill his fiancee. Shigeru shakes his head, practically whipping it back and forth.

"They're trying to kill _you_ , you idiot! Not me," he snaps, scowling. Kentarou snorts softly at that, shrugging one shoulder and pulling Shigeru up to his feet. "You should've waited! They weren't going to hurt me."

"Your family didn't want to pay," Kentarou bites back, and almost immediately regrets his words when Shigeru's face falls. He sighs, looking away and rubbing the back of his neck. "They thought... if they waited then the ransom would be lowered or something. I didn't like it, so I came to get you."

"Oh," Shigeru answers, and his voice is softer this time, no longer scolding. He opens his mouth to say something else, only to be cut off by the door swinging open. It's a gentle shove from the outside, not the kind of force Kentarou was using to barge his way past the other locks in the building, and it reveals a young man with glasses and tape covering his fingers, glaring impressively at both of them.

Kentarou shifts, pushing Shigeru behind him and ignoring his little huff of protest at being moved. The young man raises both eyebrows, looking Kentarou over curiously, his head tilting just slightly to the side before he reaches to adjust his glasses. “Ah. The Norn prince. That’s convenient, I suppose.”

Adjusting his grip on the sword, Kentarou inclines his head slightly in agreement. There’s no use denying who he is, not at this point—he’s not sure he would have the heart to deny it regardless. When he answers his voice is steady, practiced, he doesn’t tremble when he has something to protect. “You’re trying to kill me.”

“It’s nothing personal,” the young man answers, shaking his head slightly. “I have an employer who would benefit from the failure of this alliance. Killing you is a simple way to ensure that happens.”

Kentarou scowls at that. Politics has always been a frustration to him for this exact reason—it seems to always be conducted by those who don’t care about the lives of others. He’s never been much good at it himself; the diplomacy and shady intentions always leave him feeling confused, unsure of where he stands. He’s much more straightforward than all of that.

Still, he has no plans of dying as a means to an end. He doesn’t close his eyes to form the spell in his mind—it’s something so practiced that the marks appear as quick gestures of his fingers from muscle memory alone. They join neatly in his head, runes for ‘push’ and ‘hold’ and ‘wind’ that barely need his focus or his encouragement. The young man doesn’t seem to notice the motion of his fingers, and when Kentarou releases the spell from his mind and into the world, it creates a great gust of wind that shoves him back into the hall, against the wall, knocking the glasses from his face and pinning him there. He coughs out a surprised sound, and Kentarou turns, jamming the sword away once again and grabbing Shigeru’s hand, pulling him along. “Let’s go.”

Shigeru stumbles the first few steps, not expecting the sudden sprint, but Kentarou holds fast to his hand, pulling him a step behind. He knows better than to look over his shoulder for pursuers because of the loss of speed, but Shigeru cranes to stare over his shoulder and the loss of pace forces Kentarou to slow as well.

There’s a man standing in front of the door by the time they get there—taller than anyone Kentarou has seen before. He has short, dark hair and the slightest of frowns on his face. Kentarou can’t see a weapon in his hands, but it doesn’t mean he isn’t armed. The man doesn’t seem tense, instead, he blinks at them slowly, using the bulk of his body to block the door. “You can’t leave.”

“Are you going to stop me?” Kentarou growls in response. He doesn’t reach for his sword if only because doing so would mean letting go of Shigeru’s hand and the two of them are already vulnerable enough from the back. The giant nods his head slightly, though it doesn’t seem to be with the pressure of any true threat behind it. Kentarou snarls, upper lip curling over his teeth.

He refuses to die like this, trapped like a rat and an ocean away from his home. The giant doesn’t seem to be in a rush to do anything but prevent them from going through the door, and so Kentarou flicks a glance back to Shigeru. He’s standing close, clinging to Kentarou’s hand so hard it almost hurts, with his eyes wide and scared. Still, he catches Kentarou’s glance and clears his throat.

“If—if you let us leave, I can pay you,” it’s a flimsy answer, and Kentarou wants to tell him as much but the giant’s frown just deepens slightly before he shakes his head.

“We’re supposed to kill the Norn prince,” he answers, and Kentarou slowly lets go of Shigeru’s hand, watching the giant move. He stands upright, his head almost touching the roof of the cabin, and bunches his hands into fists. There’s a glint of steel around his knuckles, the first swing catches him by surprise, directly to the center of his face, making him rock back on his heels to catch himself—he fails, falling back on his ass, blood flowing from his nose down his chin. Kentarou picks himself up with a snarl, red creeping at the edges of his vision. He draws the sword smoothly, gripping it in one tight fist.

“Stay close to me,” he doesn’t glance over his shoulder to see if Shigeru registers the command, wiping the blood from his broken nose on the back of his arm. It does nothing to stop the free flow of it, the metallic taste it leaves cloying in the back of his throat, but Kentarou is angry beyond caring.

The giant aims one heavy punch in his direction and Kentarou has to use the flat of his blade to block the blow and even then, the vibration rings up his arms more strongly than he expects. Kentarou grits his teeth, tightening his grip on the sword when the giant drops his fist. There isn’t enough space for an animal that might actually help him win this, or protect his back along with Shigeru.

Instead, Kentarou is forced to weather the next powerful swing before turning the blade on it, slicing along the giant’s knuckles with a loud ring of steel clashing against steel. The giant shouts, recoiling as blood springs from his hand. Kentarou can’t afford to give him time to recover, twisting and swinging the sword with the momentum of his body, letting the blade bite into the giant’s side so deeply that it takes a moment for blood to seep out alongside the blade. He coughs, using one large hand to shove the blade away before clapping it over the wound.

Kentarou can see the way his legs tremble against the pain before they buckle, reducing the giant to a crumpled pile on the floor. Kentarou stabs the blade forward once more, this time through the giant’s stomach. He sags against the sudden burden of his own weight, blood leaking in a weak stream from his mouth. Kentarou pulls the blade free, keeping it in his hand and turning to grab Shigeru’s forearm once more, shoving the door open with his shoulder. “C’mon.”

They make it twenty feet from the door of the cabin when Kentarou feels the solid impact of something in the back of his right shoulder. It takes a moment longer for the _pain_ to register, and he coughs, looking at the arrow now protruding from his back. It isn’t deep, and Kentarou releases Shigeru to snap the shaft in hand, dropping the wood before sprinting into the blockade of trees.

 

By the time they find a small stream, Kentarou is sweating more than he feels like he should be, and his whole body feels cold. He nearly falls into the water, dropping to his knees and letting the sword slip out of his loose grip, breath wheezing out of his lungs. Shigeru stops next to him, bending at the waist and bracing his hands against his knees, panting for air. “D- do you think we’re alright here?”

“For a minute,” Kentarou grunts in answer, leaning over to peer at his own reflection in the water. His face is a smeared mess of blood, and there are already deep purple bruises under both of his eyes, and with a grunt he reaches in, gathering water in his hands and using it to clean the blood away as best he can. Apparently having managed to catch his breath, Shigeru sits next to where Kentarou is kneeling, his brow furrowed, setting a light hand on Kentarou’s shoulder.

“You still have an arrow in you,” he points out as if Kentarou had simply forgotten about that fact. Still, he nods his head slightly, scrubbing the last of the blood he can manage away from his nose. The break isn’t terrible, at least, though from this point he doesn’t have much of a choice except for straightening it out on his own. He glances back to Shigeru again, a hand hovering over his face, raising one of his eyebrows.

“You have to pull it out,” he instructs, trying not to sigh when Shigeru goes pale at the prospect. “If it’s out I can close the hole, at least.”

He’s never had much of a talent for healing magic himself, but he can do that much at least. Enough to ensure he won’t pass out while they figure out the next step in what to do. Shigeru is still frozen, and Kentarou takes one of his wrists gently, wrapping his fingers around the broken shaft of the arrow. “Just pull straight back as hard as you can. I’ll be fine.”

Kentarou does his best to give a reassuring smile, and Shigeru nods his head slightly. It’s the first time he’s seen Shigeru look so determined and serious, and he gives the arrow a single sharp tug, making it slide free from Kentarou’s shoulder. He grunts, gritting his teeth against the pain of it. It’s making him feel slightly light-headed, colored dots swimming in his vision. He does his best to blink it away, gripping the bridge of his nose and straightening it once again, hissing a long breath through his teeth.

He takes a long moment to steady his breathing once again, struggling not to blackout, aware that Shigeru is staring at him with his lip caught nervously between his teeth. “How are we going to get back? I don’t know where we are.”

“We gotta find a town and get directions,” he leans to grab a small stick, sucking in a sharp breath as he does, ignoring the slight tingling of his fingers. He pauses, struggling to remember the proper runes for the healing spell he’s looking for. It feels as though the thought keeps slipping from his grasp before he can grab hold of it. He frowns, loosely sketching marks for ‘burn’ and ‘fire’ and ‘close’, using a minor mark to chain the three of them together, pressing his hand to his shoulder.

There’s the sick smell of flesh searing back together and Kentarou has to drop his hand after a moment, the burning sensation making his stomach turn.

“I’m fairly certain that _wasn’t_ a healing spell,” Shigeru sighs, laying his hand softly on Kentarou’s side. “Are you okay to move?”

Kentarou nods his head, having to grit his teeth while he stands. The motion brings a fresh sense of nausea over him, and he has to grip Shigeru’s shoulder to steady himself. His legs feel shaky and strange underneath him but he does his best to ignore it. They don’t have time to linger here while Kentarou licks his wounds. He keeps a hold on Shigeru, looking around. “We’ll have to follow the stream until we find a town.”

“Are you sure you’re alright?” Shigeru blinks and Kentarou nods his head firmly. The concern feels strange to him, and he’s determined to get the two of them pressing on already. He starts walking, though the first few steps feel like a struggle.

 

By the time the two of them follow the river to the edge of the forest, where the loose deer tracks give way to solid packed road, Kentarou is barely on his feet. He’s leaning most of his weight on Shigeru, an arm slung over his shoulder, and still struggling with each step. He feels cold all over, small chills crawling up and down his spine, and his hands are dead on the ends of his arms. His whole body feels like a burden that needs to be dragged each step forward.

“You need to see a healer,” Shigeru says, gripping his arm tighter around Kentarou’s waist to help hold him up. Kentarou tries to nod in agreement but his head merely bobs weakly between his shoulders. Neither of them has the money for a healer, either, but he can’t find the words to point that out. It feels like he’s submerged deep in dark waters, trying to push his way back to the world at the surface and failing.

It’s easier, so much easier, to simply close his eyes and let the darkness cover him—so he does.

 

 

* * *

It would have been terrifyingly out of Shigeru's abilities to try to drag Kentarou's limp body to some place of safety.

His luck won out of course, because before he could fling himself into a full panic over the very real possibility of Kentarou dying on the edge of the woods and Shigeru never being able to find his way home again, a young man with a horse and a cart came and offered to help him.

Keishin, he said his name was, and now Shigeru is sitting in a small guest room of the farm the Ukai family owns and staring at Kentarou's face. He's not awake, not really, though his eyes are open and his brow is furrowed into its usual scowling expression. It's a pale imitation of Kentarou normally, how he seems full of fire all the time. Before, it annoyed Shigeru. There seemed to be no point to it, not really.

But now he feels very small and alone without it.

He gave Kentarou's name as Kyoutani, and Yahaba, his middle name, rather than his first. He's not sure how far they really are from the assassin's nest, and really he's not sure that he should be trusting anyone with the truth of his identity so far from the palace, especially when he only has himself to rely on for the time being.

Shigeru has never had only himself to rely on before, and he's not sure that he's really up to the task.

The healer that Keishin brings once Kentarou has been laid out in the bed seems too young for the title, with round glasses perched on his nose like they're always a hair away from slipping off his face. He adjusts them as he looks Kentarou over, then looks back to Shigeru with a frown. "Where was he injured?"

"H- his back," Shigeru's voice hiccups when he tries to speak, and he realizes after a moment that his eyes feel wet. He helps lift Kentarou's right shoulder and indicates the spot where he burned the wound from the arrow shut, and his stomach turns from looking at it.

"Any ideas, Takeda-san?" Keishin asks, his arms crossed over his chest. Takeda, the healer, looks up at him before touching his thumb to the black lines that seem to radiate away from the wound; lines that Shigeru hadn't actually noticed before.

"Widow's bite, it looks like. He didn't do himself any favors by closing the wound up like that, either." Takeda sets Kentarou's shoulder back to the bed, but surprisingly when he looks to Shigeru he has a calm smile on his face, something at odds with how dire his words seem.

Shigeru tries to swallow away the shaking feeling in his stomach. He's not sure he'll be able to figure out what he should do if Kentarou dies here in this tiny farmhouse. Unlike the warrior prince he's engaged to, Shigeru doesn't have any knowledge of how to fight, or how to survive in the woods. He can deal with people, at least, but even then he's used to the weight of his title sitting behind him, flimsy though it may be in the wrong company. "You can help him, can't you?"

They have no money to pay for healing, and it isn't as if Shigeru can simply give his royal word to see that the healer is paid. Still, Takeda nods his head and gives Shigeru's shoulder a reassuring pat. "Widow's bite can be hard to recover from, but your friend seems very strong. I think he'll be okay."

Shigeru sighs out at that, his shoulders sagging in relief, and Keishin gives him a small nod of acknowledgment. "The two of you can stay here. It ain't real nice, I guess, but the roof doesn't leak and no one will rob you in your sleep."

At this point, it's more than Shigeru could have hoped to get. He nods his head, hesitating before bobbing an appreciative bow. He does it formally, a hand cupped over a fist and both pressed to his chest just above his heart, bowing low at the waist. "Thank you both."

He can feel them staring at him before he rises, and the back of his neck flushes warm. Keishin looks confused and slightly embarrassed, but there's something shrewd on Takeda's face that makes Shigeru want to hide all over again. It clears quickly, replaced once more by a smile. "I have something that should help your friend with recovery. He'll have to sweat most of it out himself, I'm afraid."

Nodding his head, Shigeru takes a seat on the edge of the bed, knitting his fingers together nervously. Keishin helps Takeda roll Kentarou to the side, and together they cut the fabric of his shirt away from the wound. Takeda smears some kind of thick, pale cream on Kentarou's skin, leaving it smelling faintly of sun and roses, and almost as soon as the two of them release him, Kentarou groans. His eyes fell closed, though Shigeru hadn't noticed it himself, but now they open once again.

They're bleary and dim, still, and he doesn't seem to be looking at any of them specifically. His body jerks, tenses, and he grits his teeth harshly together, tilting his head back as if fighting off a great deal of pain suddenly. Shigeru's stomach feels tight and unsettled, but Takeda doesn't look surprised by the reaction. He lays a cloth on Kentarou's brow, presumably to help cool his face, and before he can pull his hand away, Kentarou reaches up and snatches his wrist so quickly that the motion causes even Keishin to jump in surprise.

"S- Suga?" Kentarou grumbles, his brow furrowing as he tries to make his eyes focus on Takeda. He seems confused by whatever differences he sees because he lets go of Takeda's arm. "I don't wanna see any valkyries today, Suga."

The two of them look over at Shigeru, but he's staring at Kentarou with the same level of confusion on his own face. Takeda recovers first, rubbing his wrist gingerly but still not failing to smile. "Confusion is normal, of course. We'll just have to monitor his condition carefully."

"Sure," Keishin grumbles, and Shigeru glances up at two of them with his lip caught between his teeth. It seems like there’s little left for him to do but wait and hope they don’t ask any questions that he doesn’t have the answers to.

 

 

* * *

Kentarou spends what feels like days fading in and out of a confused sense of wakefulness and sleep. Everything is too cold around him like his body is boiling from within and the world outside has been covered with ice. He knows, somewhere distantly in the back of his mind that it is summer and that he's in Westlin, not at home, but he can't seem to keep those facts straight. It feels like winter, and he keeps seeing shapes around the bed. Sugawara, Koutarou, Yuuji. There's a constant presence at his side, something he assumes means Kenma is watching the world for him once more.

But when his eyes open, nothing matches with his mind. There's Shigeru sitting by the bed, sometimes dozing in his seat, sometimes watching Kentarou with an anxious expression on his face. He talks a lot, but it's hard to understand what he's saying, and it gives Kentarou no answers.

He can't tell how long it is before he wakes with only a dim ache in his shoulder and his mind clearer. The world tilts heavy on its axis when he sits up, tossing the blankets that were covering him, despite the chills that still creep down his spine. Shigeru blinks, jerking awake at all the movement. "Ken— Kyoutani! You should lie down."

"What's going on?" His voice feels slow, every syllable sticking to the back of his mouth like honey. Shigeru stands, and his hand on Kentarou's shoulder is as hot as a brand.

"Lie down," he instructs, and this time Kentarou complies because he still feels like his head is spinning. Shigeru nods once he does, sliding the blankets back around Kentarou's waist. "We're in a town called Jinnah. You were poisoned by that arrow and your body is still getting rid of it."

Kentarou nods, because at least what Shigeru is saying makes sense to him now. He reaches a hand toward Kentarou's forehead, pressing his fingers there before pulling them away quickly when Kentarou gives him a perplexed look for it. He's not sure that Shigeru has ever touched him so willingly before; it's a strange thing to notice, given the situation they find themselves in. "I told them that your name was Kyoutani and that mine is Yahaba."

"Them?" Kentarou asks, trying to sit up on his elbows but grunting at the pain that resounds from his shoulder in protest. Something else feels wrong with his body, something that he can't quite put his finger on. He's still too tired to think hard.

"We've been staying in a farmhouse since you were shot. There's a local healer that's been helping you fight off the poison." Shigeru chews his lip after he speaks, and Kentarou can see the way the lower one is red and swollen from being abused so much by his teeth. "You've been in and out for almost four days."

"Can you," Kentarou's body feels too heavy for him, but he manages to roll onto his left side without groaning. "Something feels wrong with my shoulder."

"Does it hurt?" Shigeru frets, stepping closer and touching Kentarou's shoulder gently. His shirt is gone, probably to give easier access to the wound. Shigeru’s fingers graze the spot softly. “It’s starting to scar.”

Those words make Kentarou groan loudly into the soft pillow under his head, squeezing his eyes shut. That explains why his body feels so out of sorts. The arrow, or perhaps the spell he used to close the wound, must have damaged the tattoo that rested on the back of his right shoulder—the wolf. The animals are a mere conjuring of ink and magic, but Kentarou can still feel the loss acutely.

“Are you okay?” Shigeru asks nervously when Kentarou rolls himself over again, and Kentarou nods his head with a sigh.

“I’ll be fine.” He’s been hurt worse than this before, and if he ever returns home he can simply have Keiji help him repair the damage to the spell. “A wolf was the first summoning my mother taught me to do.”

Shigeru blinks, sitting slowly back in his seat. “You’ve never said anything about your parents.”

“Oh,” Kentarou frowns, feeling suddenly exposed now that the subject has come up. He wouldn’t have expected Shigeru to notice it in the first place. Shigeru waits a moment, like he's expecting Kentarou to say something further, but frowns when Kentarou remains quiet. He's not sure what he should say about them, to begin with.

"So your mother taught you magic?" Shigeru asks, settling himself at the foot of the bed, facing Kentarou. There's honest curiosity in his eyes and Kentarou nods his head, carefully shuffling himself so he's sitting at least mostly upright on the bed.

"When I was young, I was always bringing home wild animals and raising them in secret," he smiles, just slightly at the memory of it. "So she offered to teach me summoning before I ran off and found a bear cub and brought it home."

He shifts, reaching to touch the injury on the back of his shoulder. "A wolf at first, though it was smaller when I was a kid. After that, I taught most of them to myself."

"And your dad?" Shigeru asks, his hands twisting together in his lap. Kentarou's smile vanishes. He wasn't anticipating the question, and he shrugs his good shoulder in response. He's not sure what he should say about Takahashi at this point. He hasn't yet forgotten that his father sent him here, to a country they knew nothing about, to marry someone he had never even heard of before. It stings in the back of his throat, the fact that he was so easy to trade and so easy to forget. Shigeru seems to read his hesitance as grief because he frowns quickly. "I'm sorry, you don't have to—"

"It's fine," Kentarou's voice feels rougher when he responds. "He taught me how to fight, of course. And how to be a good leader."

At least, he tried, Kentarou reflects bitterly, thinking of the arguing the last time the two of them spoke. He still feels, perhaps foolishly, that there should have been some other option, something else that they could have done. He searches for a different story instead, one that will satisfy Shigeru's curiosity and make him feel less like he's apt to spill his guts out onto the floor.

"My mother was from a different tribe," Kentarou begins, and he's heard this story so many times that the telling of it feels familiar in his mouth, and Shigeru leans forward like decreasing the distance between them, will make Kentarou tell the story faster. “From far further up north, toward the glacier. Her tribe can see the future… they use the thick ice to make it easier.”

“The glaciers are magic?” Shigeru interrupts, blinking his eyes, only to clip his mouth quickly shut when Kentarou glares at him. Still, with a roll of his eyes, he nods slightly.

“Yes. They’re magic. The glaciers carry a lot of very old power inside of them, there’s a legend that if you crack both the northern and southern ones open, a god will emerge from them.”

That is just a folk legend, of course. And Kentarou has a far more real story that he can share. “When they first met, my parents were both trying to kill each other.”

Shigeru opens his mouth, probably to ask a question, but closes it again when he looks at Kentarou’s frown. Satisfied that he won’t interrupt, this time, Kentarou continues. “It’s not uncommon for us to fight over territory; land that’s good for farming one year could be a sheet of ice the next. My father needed a plot of land that was theirs to grow enough crops for the next year, and so they went to war over it.”

Kentarou shifts, trying to ignore the way his face is starting to feel flush and the stinging in his shoulder. He’s suffered through much worse injuries before, with much less enjoyable company. “But he wasn’t expecting my mother.”

There’s a slight grin on his face as he continues. “She was a sorceress and a powerful one. My father only had two dozen warriors who were growing more tired and weak every day, and my mother repelled every attack on her own.”

“My father was afraid of leading his whole clan into death, so he took the finest armor that he could find and went out to fight her on his own.”

“And they fell in love?” Shigeru asks, his voice hushed and pleased. Kentarou nods his head, deciding not to scold him for the interruption this time.

“But, the women of my mother’s tribe weren’t supposed to marry without approval, and she couldn’t just bring the enemy leader home for her parents to approve of.” Kyoutani smiles a little wryly. He’s always wished to himself that this story turns out better, of course. He wishes there was more to it than the abrupt death of a woman he spent his childhood considering invincible. “So, the two of them ran away together to get married.”

“My mother went all the way to the glacier to craft a wedding gift.” Realizing this is perhaps the most he’s ever spoken to Shigeru all at once, Kentarou closes his mouth, feeling suddenly awkward. There isn’t much more to the story, anyway. Shigeru hovers like he’s waiting for the thread of the story to pick up once more, but Kentarou shakes his head.

There’s a tinge of disappointment in the way Shigeru leans back again, despite the fact that he’s still smiling. It’s shallow, and it fails to actually reach his eyes, and Kentarou wants to sink back into the pillows and forget that they were talking in the first place. “It’s a sweet story.”

“They’d do anything for each other, really,” Kentarou grumbles, rubbing the rough weave of the sheets between his fingers. “Things were… different, after she died.”

“I’m sorry,” Shigeru responds, so quickly it can’t be anything other than an ingrained reflex. He seems to realize it too because he adds to his statement just as quickly. “For your loss, I mean. I’m sorry.”

“It’s been more than ten years,” Kentarou answers, shrugging his shoulders. He almost jumps with surprise when Shigeru reaches out and gives his knee a small squeeze. It’s reassuring, of course, Kentarou is sure that it’s meant to be.

But he can count all the times that Shigeru has willingly reached out to touch him on one hand, and none of them have made his heart leap in his chest like it is now. He’s not sure he particularly wants to know what that feeling means.

It takes four more days before Kentarou’s fever breaks entirely, and from that point, he’s ready to move. He’s always hated being cooped up, feeling trapped, and being stuck in bed for a week while his shoulder aches and his body sweats the last of the Widow’s bite out is something akin to slow torture.

Shigeru spends time nervously thanking their hosts while Kentarou dresses in old clothes that no longer fit Keishin. They don’t hang quite right on his body, and the fabric feels strange and heavy against his skin, but it’s nothing that he can’t put up with. The both of them were kinder than Kentarou would have expected, and he’s aware he likely wouldn’t have survived without the help.

Takeda smiles at Shigeru, patting his shoulder softly and giving both of them a look that feels significant. “Make sure you take good care of each other, Your Highness.”

Shigeru jumps like he’s been struck by lightning, his eyes going almost comically wide. Kentarou wonders to himself when the healer figured it out but decides that since he didn’t turn them in to the assassins or find royal guards to ship them off back to the palace, it’s unlikely that he’s a danger.

“Thank you,” Kentarou answers roughly because Shigeru seems too stunned to actually speak. He rubs nervously at the back of his neck, trying to quiet the part of his mind that’s telling him he should touch Shigeru somehow—to try and reassure him. “Is it possible you could tell us how to get back, then?”

“The high road is just over the ridge,” Keishin answers, looking at them both skeptically. “It’ll take you about a week on foot.”

“Right,” Shigeru seems to snap out of his trance with the realization that they don’t have a horse to take them. Kentarou smiles.

“I’ll take care of it.”

 

 

* * *

Kentarou’s idea of ‘taking care of it’ seems to be an eight-legged horse that moves at an alarmingly fast speed. It’s a smoother ride than Shigeru was expecting, and while the speed has him clinging his arms around Kentarou’s waist at least he isn’t terrified he’ll be thrown off into the ditch with a broken leg.

They cover more distance than Shigeru was expecting, and when they stop for lunch in a small clearing at the side of the high road, the horse shimmers in the air for just a moment before vanishing. Shigeru blinks, just as surprised as he was when Kentarou made the horse appear out of thin air. “Do you think we’ll make it back before night?”

Kentarou shakes his head, and Shigeru slides the pack off his shoulders, peeking inside at what food Takeda gave them. He wonders how hard it will be to send payment back to the two of them as thanks for their help, especially considering they found out Shigeru’s identity and kept it firmly to themselves. “No. It’ll probably be mid-day tomorrow.”

“We should find a town to sleep in,” Shigeru sighs, taking a seat in the soft summer grass and tearing the wrapping off the bread in his bag. Kentarou looks at him like he’s just suggested something mad.

“How do you plan to pay for that?” Kentarou asks, reaching out and tearing the loaf roughly in half. Shigeru hesitates, mulling over the same question himself. Kentarou sighs. “We can make camp outside for the night.”

Shigeru wrinkles his nose delicately, his distaste for the idea plain on his face, but Kentarou grins at him. “It won’t be that bad.”

Strangely, Shigeru finds the smile on Kentarou’s face hard to argue with, and instead he returns to eating the food spread out in his lap with nothing more than a weak grumble of assent.

They ride further before nightfall and eventually come to a place that Kentarou dubs good enough for the two of them to sleep in. It’s more exposed than Shigeru would have expected—a spot just off the row behind a small hedge of berry bushes that reach their tangling fingers out into the empty air, the ripe fruit already plucked by birds. Shigeru looks around, raising both of his eyebrows. “Shouldn’t we be in the woods or something?”

“Not unless you want a predator to find you,” Kentarou huffs, bending over to grab sticks from the ground, presumably to use in building a fire. Shigeru almost asks how he plans to do that with no flint or tinder until it occurs to him that the answer is simply ‘magic’.

He sits, setting the pack down once again and rolling his sore shoulders. He would have liked to ask Kentarou to hold it on his back for part of their ride, but Shigeru doesn’t trust that his shoulder is quite as healed as Kentarou claims it to be. He seems like the type to work through the hurt, to keep it to himself to avoid bothering anyone else with his troubles.

Kentarou kneels on the ground, carefully assembling the sticks rather than just piling them up, a slight furrow of concentration in his brow. He seems unaware of Shigeru staring at him, so Shigeru doesn’t make himself look away. He rarely has a chance to simply observe Kentarou doing things, since he’s always so aware of everything around him and because he has no particular love or trust for Shigeru. He seems strangely more relaxed now, there’s an easier set to his shoulders and the light of the sun setting behind him casts warm hues of red and pink on the side of his face. It’s interesting to watch, even if he’s just building a fire. He gives all of his focus to the task, even when he hovers his hand carefully over the little pile of sticks and conjures a flame from it.

He looks up then, and Shigeru returns his gaze quickly to something else, looking over the hedge toward the road. “You don’t think anyone will bother us out here? We’re still pretty close.”

“I’ll take care of it if anyone gives us trouble,” Kentarou shrugs, settling close to his small fire. “Are you that scared of sleeping outside?”

“No,” Shigeru huffs, even if there’s plenty of trepidation when he thinks hard about the idea. Kentarou doesn’t need to know that, nor does he need to know that the idea of him ‘taking care’ of trouble is actually… reassuring. It’s amusing, seeing as the last trouble that Kentarou tried taking care of ended with him getting poisoned. “I’ve just never done anything like this before.”

Kentarou blinks at that, looking surprised, and Shigeru sighs. “Before… all this, I’d never even spent the night outside of the palace before.”

“Oh,” the surprise is even more evident in his tone and Shigeru can already feel his own hackles raising with the urge to defend the sheltered life that he’d led before Kentarou made a mess out of his life. But Kentarou’s face creeps towards a smile instead. “It’s not so bad. You’ll like it.”

Shigeru isn’t so sure that he believes that, but as things stand there’s a severe lack of a better option. Still, he would feel better with some kind of shelter, anything that makes them seem less exposed. Kentarou seems to consider the same thing, looking around with a slight scowl on his face before he stands. He pulls a small knife out of his belt and begins carving marks that Shigeru doesn’t recognize into the ground. He looks up to find Shigeru leaning forward, watching him curiously. They’re runes, that much Shigeru is sure of, but not ones that Kentarou has taught him the meanings of.

He draws a different mark in four places, forming a sort of tilted square around them before returning to the small fire in the middle. There he takes the meditative position he showed Shigeru, the one to make casting a long or difficult spell easier. Shigeru watches as his eyes close, chest expanding outward when his lungs fill up with air. His lips are forming silent shapes, but there is nothing else to indicate the magic in what he’s doing—there is no glow that forms around his body, no great wind rips through the air. It’s just the two of them sitting surrounded by the growing darkness while the fire hisses quietly.

Then, each mark flares to life, one after the other, and dark red lines of light connect them in a diamond shape. It forms something like a dome contained within the lines, and Kentarou opens his eyes once it’s complete. His body sags slightly, probably tired from using so much magic while his body is still in the process of healing. Shigeru reaches a tentative hand out to touch the dome that hangs over his head, surprised by how solid it feels under his fingers. “What is this?”

“Diamond of protection,” Kentarou responds, and there’s a sleepy, rough burr in his voice. “It’ll keep anything outside from getting to us.”

“That’s incredible." Shigeru lowers his hand slowly, and Kentarou looks away at the praise. There's red at the tips of his ears, and Shigeru grins to himself, wondering if that's really all it takes to make him blush. Kentarou clears his throat awkwardly, shifting so they're sitting closer to one another before pointing up above them to the sky.

With the sun fully set, and the night clear of clouds, the whole sky is awash with an endless blanket of stars. Shigeru's mouth hangs slightly open as he looks up at it, surprised by the sheer vastness of the dark sky over their heads. He doesn't share Tooru's interest in the skies and all the secrets that he claims it holds, but he's had the same education in astronomy. He lifts a hand and traces the path of several stars, connecting them together. "You can see the great knight."

Kentarou cranes his head back, his eyes following the path Shigeru traces, and he studies the sky carefully before moving his finger over. "And his sword is over here. You can only see the shield in winter."

From beside him, Kentarou huffs a sound that Shigeru thinks just might be _laughter_. "That's the bear and the snake."

"Oh, is it now?" Shigeru raises an eyebrow in challenge and Kentarou nods his head. His fingers wrap gently around Shigeru's wrist, guiding it to point at a different star.

"That's the north arrow." He's indicating the brightest star that Shigeru can see, the one most commonly used for navigation since it's always located at true north. "That's the way back home."

"Right," Shigeru answers, his voice softer than he means for it to sound. He's forgotten, somehow, that the palace isn't Kentarou's home. "Do you like it here?"

The question comes out abrupt, awkward, and Kentarou releases his wrist with a surprised blink. Shigeru drops his arm to his lap, wondering if he should take the question back when Kentarou does nothing more than stare at him for a moment. But, he unfreezes and shrugs his shoulders.

"No." He sounds more than certain of himself, and Shigeru's heart sinks in a way that he wasn't expecting. "I'm barely anything more than a prisoner here."

Shigeru opens his mouth to argue back, to point out how well Kentarou has been treated by his family, how nice he clearly has it in the palace here. But then he pauses—he considers how ‘nice’ he had it with assassins holding him captive but at least not trying to torture him. Slowly, he nods his head. “You’re more used to this, right? Being outside. Being free, I guess.”

Kentarou looks at him like he’s sprouted a second head, but Shigeru keeps speaking, ignoring the look. “I get it. You can’t do anything because you’re here for your family, but you’re basically being held hostage as much as I was.”

Slowly, Kentarou inclines his head in agreement and Shigeru sighs quietly. “I can’t do anything to fix that. I’m sorry.”

“I know you can’t,” Kentarou’s voice is soft, and he tilts his head back slightly to look up at the stars once again. “You didn’t do anything to cause it, either.”

“My family did,” Shigeru points out, and Kentarou hums, more in thought than in agreement, it seems.

“If I had a choice, I wouldn’t go back,” he says, after taking a long moment to think it over. He points again, directly at the north arrow, a crooked smile hanging on the corner of his cheek. “I’d follow that all the way to the coast—straight back home.”

“But you don’t have a choice.” It’s not a question, but Shigeru doesn’t mean to rub it in either. Still, Kentarou sighs, and his weight slumps slightly against Shigeru’s shoulder. The warm contact is a surprise, but not an unwelcome one. After everything that’s happened, he feels safer with Kentarou next to him.

“No. I don’t. I’ll go back and let them lock me up,” he glances at Shigeru, and Shigeru doesn’t entirely understand the expression on his face. “I’ll get married because it’s what I have to do.”

“Tooru says that’s what good leaders do—whatever they have to.” He feels suddenly awkward speaking directly to Kentarou’s face, so instead he looks up at the stars again as well. He can trace the familiar shape of the knight with his eyes, and it’s funny that the legend behind it is about just the same thing. A knight that worked so hard and so tirelessly to please his queen that he won himself a place amongst the stars so he could watch over Westlin and it’s royal family forever.

“I think you must be a very good leader, Kentarou, to put yourself through all of this.”

Kentarou is definitely blushing this time when he looks away from Shigeru. He stretches himself out on the soft grass with a grumble of what sounds like ‘go to sleep’ before stubbornly shutting his own eyes. He seems more embarrassed than actually angry, in a way that’s almost charming. Shigeru stretches out on the ground on the other side of the fire, and he falls asleep with a small smile on his face.

 

 

* * *

  
Returning is much like Kentarou expects it to be—they’re angry with him for sneaking away, probably having assumed he was running back home once Shigeru went missing. It’s strange that the thought never occurred to him until  _after_ he had Shigeru safely in tow, but Kentarou keeps that to himself.

Instead, he gives them their son back, unharmed except for what he claims is the desperate need for a bath, and to Kentarou’s great surprise; they’re pleased by it. He expected Shigeru’s homecoming to be a stoic affair, mostly handled by advisers before Shigeru was spirited off by a servant to be taken care of. He doesn’t expect both the king and the queen to rush themselves into the room.

They don’t look like they’ve been sitting awake for almost two weeks wondering where their son is, but the queen sweeps Shigeru into her arms with such a fervor that Kentarou feels awkward hovering in the same room as their reunion. Shigeru seems surprised, pleased, by the welcome and he hugs his mother back just as tightly, his face pressed into her shoulder. She looks something like him, with thin brown hair that sits perfectly in place and light, clever eyes.

The king is quiet, dignified, and when the queen releases Shigeru from her grasp he greets his son with a warm squeeze on the shoulder. Shigeru is smiling, slightly pink in the cheeks. Kentarou almost leaps out of his skin when Iwaizumi steps up to his shoulder, looking down at him with a neutral expression that does nothing to ease his worry. He speaks in a low voice, almost as if he’s concerned about the gathered royals hearing him. “They’ve asked me to assign another knight to watch you.”

“I helped him,” Kentarou doesn’t know why he’s arguing, especially with Iwaizumi who probably has little to no power over what happens to Kentarou. “I saved him.”

“You nearly died, and it endangered both of you,” Iwaizumi sighs before shaking his head. “I understand what you did, but it would have been better handled without you causing trouble.”

Kentarou looks down at his feet, feeling thoroughly chastised. Iwaizumi hesitates for a moment before squeezing a hand on Kentarou’s shoulder, his eyes focused ahead and his voice still a murmur. “Thank you for what you did.”

He nods in agreement, despite the surprise. And when Iwaizumi bows and is ignored, he turns to leave. Kindaichi hovers awkwardly in the door, obviously waiting for Kentarou to do the same. He glances once more at Shigeru, only to find him engrossed in the attention of both of his parents, and so Kentarou follows the young knight out the door.

 

The new guard he is assigned is tall, possibly taller than anyone else Kentarou has seen in the palace, and he looks incredibly bored to be following Kentarou around all day. He has glasses, close-cropped blond hair, and unlike Kindaichi, doesn’t seem quite so easy to sneak away from.

The hunch he has about that fact almost makes him want to give evading Tsukishima a try, but he resists the urge. He’s concerned now that causing more trouble might have consequences.

Slipping away from Kindaichi to spar with the guards was one thing, but after having run away—no matter how good his intentions—Kentarou is sure that his behavior won’t be treated so lightly any longer.

Surprisingly, the only thing that Tsukishima seems to regard as not being an irritation is Shigeru's butler, Yamaguchi. He doesn't quite _smile_ at him, of course, he has the same bored, half-sardonic expression on his face as always, but he doesn't go out of his way to tease or insult him either. Yamaguchi, on the other hand is always smiling in Tsukishima's direction, taking an extra moment to ask if he needs anything. Tsukishima usually just stares at him for a moment before shaking his head and grumbling for Yamaguchi to do his job.

Kentarou isn't good with other people, so he's not sure what it all adds up to, but he's sure it's something Kenma would consider significant.

 

The gentle tap of knuckles on the door that joins his room to Shigeru's is a surprise, and he sits up from the bed with a blink. He hasn't been able to shake the habit of rising early, even if there's nothing to do with himself so early in the morning but watch the sunrise through the gauzy curtains by himself. Shigeru slips through the door quietly, and he has a cape wrapped around his shoulders despite the fact that it's still summer and the mornings aren't chill enough to require it. He gives Kentarou a grin, holding another one out.

"C'mon," his voice is an excited whisper, and Kentarou rolls himself out of bed without question, sliding the cape and his boots on, wrapping the heavily woven fabric around his nightclothes, noting that Shigeru has done the same. Shigeru draws his hood up to shelter his face after they creep from the bedroom slinking his shoulders low. Kentarou could almost laugh at the fact that they look far more suspicious like this than they would have simply striding down the corridor like they were on some kind of official business.

Still, Shigeru leads him outside, grinning and reaching back to take Kentarou's hand and tug him around the rounded corner of the parapet. Kentarou's fingers drag over the bone-white stones that form the palace, tinted pink with the blush of the rising sun.

Shigeru leads him out to the stables, a place that Kentarou hasn't even wandered on his own yet. The grooms haven't yet arrived to care for the animals it seems, but Shigeru keeps pulling Kentarou's hand, leading him past the stabled horses to a single stall in the back that seems empty despite its latched door.

He's smiling when he lets Kentarou's hand go, leaving his skin tingling from the contact he's no longer familiar with, and he points into the stall. Kentarou leans over the door, blinking his eyes and feeling a grin catch on his own face, wide and excited.

Nesting in the hay, there's a litter of squirming pups. They're purebred, Kentarou can tell, the spitting image of the dove grey mother sleeping with her body curled around them. She lifts her head to blink at Shigeru and Kentarou, a proud tilt to her ears and her tail thumping the ground gently. Shigeru leans on the door next to him, close enough in the confined space that their shoulders touch. "Kindaichi mentioned that she'd given birth, I thought you might want to come visit."

There are six puppies that Kentarou can count, eyes still closed as they clumsily trod around in the hay, frequently tripping over themselves and over one another. They have the lean bodies of hounds, even with the baby fat. He glances over at Shigeru, his head slightly tilted. "Hunting dogs?"

"The grooms train them." Shigeru nods his head. "I'm not much of a hunter but Hayato enjoys it, so he makes sure they're well taken care of down here."

The mother shakes her head, making the ornate collar around her throat jingle, before laying down once again. Kentarou is more than content to watch the puppies anyway, even if it makes him long for home more than he expects. He nods at the smallest of the litter, curled under the mother's arm. "Freya was that size when I found her. Three weeks old and she'd barely grown at all."

"You have a dog?" Shigeru asks, looking from the animals to Kentarou, his mouth twisted into a slight frown.

"A mutt," Kentarou answers, grinning still. "Not that you could tell looking at her. She's the most popular lady I've ever known."

Shigeru laughs at that, and the sound takes Kentarou by surprise. He finds himself staring awkwardly for a moment before he realizes the silence on his end is stretching on for far too long. He clears his throat quickly, looking away again. “She—she was really sick when I found her, and I think when I asked if I could keep her my dad expected her not to make it more than a week.”

“But you took care of her.” Shigeru finishes and Kentarou nods his head, a small smile on his face.

“She’s a good dog.” He answers, and Shigeru bumps their shoulders together with a smile.

“I might be able to talk Hayato into taking us hunting with him, if you’d like.” The offer is a surprise, but Kentarou nods his head at it. It might be interesting, even if he’s sure hunting with Shigeru would be nothing like what he’s used to. Shigeru pauses, gathering his hands together and staring down at the moment. “Ah, before we go back…”

Kentarou hovers in place, blinking his eyes and leaning slightly more of his weight into Shigeru’s side, curiosity making him lean in slightly more than he otherwise would. “I know that this wedding is hardly something that you’re excited about. And I’m not really either.”

Shigeru’s hands flutter nervously, together and apart again like he’s not sure what he’s supposed to be doing with them. “We can’t do anything about it, either. So maybe it would be good to just… make the best of it.”

“The best of it?” Kentarou questions, raising one of his eyebrows. Shigeru nods his head jerkily.

“We can stay out of each other’s way on things, just do our best to get along. It’s not really a _romance_ but, we can do okay at it.” He shifts his eyes to the side, looking nervously over at Kentarou, and visibly relaxing when he nods along slowly.

Strangely, something in his chest falls. A sinking feeling in his stomach like something was just taken away from him. He frowns at himself for the feeling, and Shigeru thinks it’s meant for him because he stands quickly. “You won’t be a prisoner anymore, you’ll be my husband.”

“You think I’m going to run.” Kentarou mumbles and Shigeru shrugs his shoulders.

“I wouldn’t blame you if you did. I don’t know if I could go through with it if I was in your shoes.” He sighs, rubbing the back of his neck. “But, we can work together, I think. I won’t make things any harder for you.”

“Right.” Kentarou is still confused by the empty feeling in his stomach. “Thank you.”

“Yeah.” Shigeru’s voice brightens slightly, and he bumps his shoulder against Kentarou’s. “We should head back inside, then.”

Kentarou nods his head, following after Shigeru and doing his best not to frown any more than usual.


	4. leave a light on

_"Realize what you really want._

_It stops you from chasing butterflies_

_and puts you to work digging gold."_

—William Moulton Marston

* * *

 

"Can you teach me how to do one of those protection things?” Shigeru asks, interrupting Kentarou’s apparent fascination with the book he has spread out in his lap. He looks up, blinking his eyes as he leaves whatever legend he’s reading about this time to stare up at Shigeru for a moment before shaking his head and turning back to the book.

“It’s advanced,” he answers, dismissive, and Shigeru balances an irritated hand on one of his hips. He can’t shake the feeling that Kentarou is mad at him, avoiding him for some reason. It’s getting frustrating, to say the least.

“So teach me what I need to know to advance,” Shigeru responds, marching over and plucking the book out of Kentarou’s hands. He looks up with his teeth bared in annoyance, but Shigeru ignores it. At this point, Kentarou’s bark is starting to seem worse than his bite, at least when it’s directed toward Shigeru. “Once a day, that’s all I’m asking.”

“You want me to sit here every day and teach you magic?” Kentarou raises an eyebrow, but he doesn’t sound as put off by the suggestion as Shigeru would have expected. He continues frowning, even as he nods his head. “Alright. Fine.”

“Really?” Shigeru blinks, the book dangling from the tips of his fingers and Kentarou rolls his eyes, exasperated by having to explain himself more than once.

“Yeah. Sit down.” He stands only to grab a stack of loose paper and ink, neglecting a quill as he usually does when it comes to magic. The first time he sat to teach Shigeru, he claimed that he could make runes easier without a pen since he was used to drawing him with his fingers when he was casting. He dips one finger into the ink, and the motion is almost delicate. He draws out four runes on the page in the loose shape of a diamond. “You won’t be able to cast a full one yet, but these four represent each cardinal direction.”

Despite how reticent Kentarou can be, he’s always more relaxed when Shigeru asks him to explain something, especially when it comes to magic. It’s strange, almost. Shigeru would have thought someone who prides himself so much on being a _warrior_ would be reluctant to engage in a pursuit like magic, but Kentarou seems perfectly adept at fusing the two, and intensely studied in a way Shigeru would never have expected. Shigeru leans over the paper, tilting his head slightly. “That’s all it takes?”

Kentarou huffs a little sigh and shakes his head. He sketches another mark in the center, one Shigeru has never seen him use before, and he points to it with the ink-stained tip of his finger. “That’s a master mark, it’s what you use to join all of them.”

“Oh.” It makes sense, for a spell that Kentarou cast and seemed to tire him so immediately.

“If you try to use it now, you’d probably kill yourself,” Kentarou shrugs, as if that’s not meant to be alarming at all. Shigeru stops himself from reflexively trying to draw the mark out with his fingers. “If it didn’t kill you, it’d cause a lot of damage. I’ve seen people blow shit up or lose their voice for weeks because they used a master mark they weren’t ready for.”

“How do you learn to use it, then?” Shigeru asks, slightly wary. Kentarou shrugs, pressing two fingers to the paper and blinking his eyes. A tiny red diamond forms on it, a pale imitation of the one Kentarou used to protect them while they slept. Shigeru reaches, touching one of the sides and finding it surprisingly firm under his finger, smooth and cool like steel.

“You get stronger, the more used to using to magic you are, and the more you practice,” Kentarou looks up at him, and he has one of those crooked, almost smiles on his face. "Eventually you might get good enough for some tattoos of your own."

Shigeru laughs at that, even as a greater sense of curiosity flickers inside of him. "How many do you have?"

He meant more to ask how common the practice was, of tattooing spells onto your body, but the question slips out of him like water through his fingers. Kentarou blinks, leaning back slightly, making it obvious that wasn't what he was expecting Shigeru to ask before shrugging his shoulders slightly and tugging his shirt up over his head. Shigeru blinks, feeling the back of his neck warm as he stares.

Kentarou is, to put it lightly, covered almost completely. All of the tattoos are in black ink, animals drawn out of thick, intricate lines. He has to lean slightly to see most of them; the damaged wolf tattoo on the back of his right shoulder, and the head of the horse on his left. There's a dragon in the center of his back, dominating the greatest space, as well as the lynx on his right arm and the fox on his left, with a circle of runes that sits in the middle of his chest.

Shigeru finds himself leaning forward slightly without thinking, blinking his eyes as he studies each mark. He isn't usually so close to Kentarou, close enough that he can smell the slightly cold, earthiness that seems to cling to him--like the smell of pine and snow, nor is he usually so directly faced by the muscle Kentarou has built after years of fighting.

A slight cough from Kentarou makes Shigeru lean back quickly, feeling his whole face heat with embarrassment, rubbing the back of his neck. "T- those runes are for summoning?"

"Yeah," he grunts, though he doesn't look half as flustered as Shigeru feels, and he doesn't seem to be in any rush to put his clothing back on. Shigeru's eyes are drawn guiltily back to his chest, and this time, he can't pretend it's for the purpose of anything other than admiration.

"Y- you don't have many scars," he observes, if only to give some kind of reason for his staring. Kentarou huffs slightly at that, nodding his head.

"I don't get hit very much," his answer is practically a laugh and Shigeru nods. He's glad when Kentarou pulls his shirt back on before grabbing the next sheet of paper, even if there's a little sting of disappointment as well. "There are other things you can use the cardinal directions for, though. Navigation, mostly..."

 

 

* * *

"Good morning," Yamaguchi's voice is almost overly chipper as he lets himself into Kentarou's room, carrying a lumpy armful of what looks to be clothing. Tsukishima hovers in the doorway, looking for a moment like he's actually debating offering help to the butler. Yamaguchi doesn't seem to notice the look, because he bustles himself into the center of Kentarou's room, dropping the clothes in a heap on the foot of the bed before pushing his mussed bangs back from his face.

Usually, he wears his hair tied back from his face, presumably as not to get in the way of his work, but most of his hair has already fallen loose and apparently been forgotten. Still, he smiles as Kentarou sits himself up and swings his legs over the side of the bed to stand. Fighting Yamaguchi hasn't done him any good so far, and Shigeru has been running around for a week preparing for some kind of holiday celebration. No one has asked for any of Kentarou's help with it, of course, and he's really not sure what any of it is _for_.

But, he and Shigeru agreed to try being partners, at the very least, and so the least Kentarou can do is not drag his feet and make things harder. He looks at Yamaguchi with his nose wrinkled just slightly in distaste. "Bath?"

"Yes please," Yamaguchi chirps, hustling him over toward the dressing screen that conceals the basin of water. It comes in blistering hot, but it doesn't have the same sulphuric smell that Kentarou is used to from hot springs hidden amongst the ice. According to Yamaguchi, the water is heated in the depths of the palace before it's sent up to the rooms whenever a rope is tugged. It's a luxury that Kentarou can't quite accustom himself to, even after months of seeing it. "The Celebration of Spirits is today."

"It's a festival, right?" Kentarou blinks, shrugging himself out of his nightclothes. Yamaguchi has at least complied with Kentarou's desire to dress and undress. He nods his head, tugging the rope to request water before quickly turning to the mirror and raking his fingers through his hair to pull it back once more. He wrinkles his nose at his own reflection before looking away.

"We get the day off to celebrate as well, once the royal family leaves for the parade." Yamaguchi beams, but his eyes dart toward the door, now closed with Tsukishima once again lurking outside like he's guarding the cage of a wild animal. "Though... the knights still have to work, since they have to protect the parade."

Kentarou hums at that, trying to smother his own curiosity. Yamaguchi has never offered any information about his personal life, and it seems strange now for Kentarou to try asking about it. Yamaguchi waits for the basin to fill before tugging the rope again, choking off the supply of water. "You'll be in the parade too, of course. And you'll probably help out with the lanterns, I guess."

"Lanterns?" Kentarou asks, lowering himself into the steaming water gingerly. It still stings slightly on the back of his shoulder, though the arrow wound has long since healed over, leaving the skin shiny and pink with scar tissue, wiped clean of the magic it used to hold. He still feels strange, exposed without the summon he's so used to relying on. He does his level best to ignore Yamaguchi dumping soap onto his head, scrubbing it into his hair. The black lines shaved and dyed into it have long since grown out, leaving it blond and shaggy around his temples.

"Floating ones! We send them up with messages to the people that we've lost," Yamaguchi's fingers are quick and rough in his hair. Obviously, they're already running late for the morning. "I'll have to make sure I can get three from one of the vendors."

"For who?" The question comes out before he thinks about it and Kentarou curses himself internally when Yamaguchi stops at the question. His manners, it seems, have not gotten that much better.

"Well, two are for my parents. So I can tell them how I'm doing," Yamaguchi's voice isn't strained, though it's delicate, like anyone tip-toeing their way around an old wound might be. "And one for Tsukki's brother."

Kentarou wonders if he should buy one for his mother, if a paper lantern could fly all the way to the golden halls where her spirit is now.

He almost asks Yamaguchi, if only to share a little of himself in return, but the butler clears his throat quickly and dumps water over Kentarou's head to clean the soap away. "We should get you dressed before you're late!"

 

 

A parade, as it turns out, is something a lot like a war march. If they were done in 10 layers of finery under the blisteringly hot summer sun while people lining the uneven city streets screamed cheers as they marched to battle.

Which is to say, it's nothing like Kentarou has ever experienced, and it leaves him just as weary as any march ever has. To add to it, he's expected to spend the entire four-mile march sitting in the back of a carriage with Shigeru and holding onto his hand, waving at the crowds as they go by. Sharing the carriage, on the other side is Tooru and his supposed fiancee, Alisa. She calls excitedly back to the crowd as if they're her people as well, waving exuberantly with the hand not laced through Tooru's fingers.

The two of them never look at each other.

Tooru spends his time staring out the other side, waving and stealing glances at Iwaizumi walking alongside them like there's a conversation the two of them are trying to have through exchanged glances alone.

When they reach the end of the procession, Kentarou isn't sure why he's so tired. He's stiff from having been seated for so long, and his right arm feels like it might fall out of its socket despite his waving being tentative at best. Shigeru looks over at him with a smile, and when their fingers unlock (stiffly, and Kentarou can feel his joints creak from being bent for so long), Shigeru pats his shoulder with a laugh. "Better or worse than you expected?"

"Worse," Kentarou responds, though he's grinning right back. Alisa and Tooru don't speak to one another. Alisa leans out the window, signaling the personal guard she has with her with one hand, smiling. The woman who walks over is short and blonde, with sharp eyes. She isn't wearing armor, at least as far as Kentarou can tell, and her uniform is loose on one shoulder, showing a dragon tattoo taking up most of her arm. He stares at it curiously before she looks up at him with an eyebrow raised. He isn't surprised that she noticed his attention; any decent guard should be able to.

"I'd like to rest now, Saeko," Alisa sounds more tired than Kentarou feels, and her guard, Saeko, doesn't make any comment about how she should make an effort for the festival. Instead, she dips her head in a quick bow.

"I'll have Ryuu bring a horse so I can ride you back to the palace, milady." Her voice, when addressing the princess, is formal, but when she turns she draws a great breath into her lungs and shouts so loudly that Shigeru nearly leaps out of the carriage in surprise. "Ryuu! Get your bald head over here!"

A young man breaks away from the small contingent of knights milling around them, indeed bald, and as curiously unarmored as Saeko. He groans, rubbing the back of his head. "Geez, you're loud. What?"

"I need to take Her Highness to lay down," Saeko crosses her arms over her chest. "Grab a horse for me. And is that any way to talk to your older sister?"

"I'll take care of it," Ryuu answers with a roll of his eyes. The second question he doesn't address.

Tooru sighs, leaning back in the seat and stretching his arms over his head with a groan. "That was longer than last year. And Iwa-chan didn't collect any of the flowers that they threw at me!"

"Has he ever?" Shigeru snorts, chuckling when Tooru sticks his tongue out. He doesn't seem surprised by Alisa's choice to leave immediately either. Instead, he turns to Kentarou with a strange look on his face, fingers tapping nervously on his thigh. "We can ah, go see the market if you'd like."

Tooru's head tilts to the side, and Kentarou can hardly nod his head fast enough if only for the chance to escape the scrutiny and attention suddenly focused on them. Shigeru nods, standing slowly and stretching before climbing out of the carriage. He holds a hand out like he expects Kentarou to need help climbing down, which he ignores, of course.

Walking will do the stiffness in his hips some good, he suspects. He's not surprised when Tsukishima and Kindaichi follow after them like a pair of loyal if frequently annoyed, hounds. Shigeru doesn't seem concerned with them in the least, and after a moment of what seems like deliberation, he links one of his arms through Kentarou's.

When Kentarou blinks at him in surprise, he shrugs his shoulders and looks off in the other direction. "We're supposed to be putting on a good show."

He glances back, with the slant of a grin on his cheek. "And I wouldn't want you to get lost in the crowd."

"Your concern is appreciated." Kentarou rolls his eyes, but he doesn't resist their linked arms either.

 

There is more of a crowd around the market than he expects, with vendors behind booths loudly shouting as they hawk their wares and children scampering wildly around underfoot. Tsukishima looks at the throng of people and frowns. "This is a good place to have a knife slipped between your ribs."

Kindaichi's mouth drops open at the phrasing, and he snaps it shut quickly and clears his throat, shooting a little glare at Tsukishima. The two of them don't enjoy working together, Kentarou has noticed, though Tsukishima doesn't seem to enjoy working with anyone. Kindaichi is a shot more personable, though usually only if Iwaizumi or Kunimi are involved. Still, on this he's forced to agree, it seems. "I- it is true. I mean, no one has caught the people who kidnapped you..."

Shigeru gives them both a look, one that seems to stop the arguing immediately. "That's your job to take care of, isn't it?"

"Of course." Tsukishima's answer seems more like a sneer. Kindaichi bobs his head in agreement. Kentarou glances at the crowd once more before tightening his hold on Shigeru's arm slightly.

He's not armed at the moment, Yamaguchi had insisted there was no reason for him to be, but he's more than certain of his ability to take care of himself with magic if he needs to. Still, the idea of having to fight assassins with Shigeru so close _again_ makes him just slightly more nervous.

"What kind of food do they have?" He asks instead, and Shigeru seems to relax like he knows that if Kentarou isn't scared he doesn't need to be either.

"You like venison, don't you? I'm sure they have meat pies." Shigeru begins pulling him into the crowd, the two knights following close behind them.

Surprisingly, despite the parade having just ended, people pay no more attention to Shigeru than any other guarded noble wandering around the fair. Tsukishima and Kindaichi take care of paying for whatever he requests, which winds up being a pair of meat pies that Kentarou enjoys more than he would have expected to, along with candies made out of some kind of spun sugar, thin as panes of glass and colored with bright pictures. It practically melts in Kentarou's mouth, the sticky surface trying to wrench his teeth out of his jaw as he chews. Shigeru watches him and laughs, shaking his head.

"You're supposed to lick it," he grins, holding the shard of blue candy in his hand and demonstrating. His tongue comes away blue, and Kentarou's brow furrows before he laughs.

"You look like you've had your tongue stuck to the glacier." He chuckles, and Shigeru wrinkles his nose at the thought.

"People don't lick the glacier, do they?" He asks, seeming scandalized by the very thought, though Kentarou nods his head, dropping his voice low like he's telling a secret.

"Usually children end up getting their tongues stuck to it until the wolves come for them." He can remember the first time Tetsurou told him this story, leaning over a fire with it casting shadows on his golden eyes. "And after, you find their skeletons hanging there still held up by their frozen tongues."

But Shigeru is not a child, as Kentarou was at the time, and his nose wrinkles once again before he laughs. "How barbaric."

Kentarou chuckles, breaking another piece of sugar off between his teeth.

 

When evening starts to fall, and the crowd begins to thin out toward the docks, Shigeru leads the both of them down as well. There's a ship waiting there with Runa and Hayato already on it, as well as several knights. Kindaichi and Tsukishima are staying ashore, this time, it seems. Kentarou climbs onto the small craft without hesitating, while Shigeru hovers on the dock for a moment with his smile frozen on his face.

"Are you alright?" Kentarou asks, his brow furrowing, and Shigeru nods his head quickly, stepping too hastily over the small gap between the dock and the boat and nearly falling. Kentarou reaches out to catch him, and Hayato chuckles softly.

"He's scared of the ocean," he answers for Shigeru, settling into his place next to his sister. Shigeru leans into Kentarou's grip for a moment, and with him pressed so close, Kentarou can feel the way his breath rattles just slightly.

"I'm fine." He shakes his head. He pulls away from Kentarou and sits. He looks to the knight on their side, who Kentarou recognizes now as Kunimi and gives him a small nod. Kunimi digs next to his foot before producing a small paper box with script covering it. Shigeru takes it delicately, nodding for Kentarou to sit as the boat pulls away from the dock. Tsukishima is already turning to greet Yamaguchi and the three matching paper boxes he has while they leave.

Shigeru glances at his siblings with a slight frown, passing the lantern into Kentarou's hands once he's settled, clearing his throat. "I got this for you."

Kentarou looks at it with a slight frown, picking it up and holding it close to his face to try and read the script before realizing he doesn't know the language it's written in. Feeling slow, he sets it down again and looks over to Shigeru with a huff. "I'm not dead."

"Not," Shigeru groans, grinding his palm into his forehead. "Not _for_ you. So you could send it."

"Oh," Kentarou responds, feeling like the air has been punched out of his lungs.

"For your mother," Shigeru mumbles, as if Kentarou hasn't figured it out for himself. It feels strange like there's something caught in his throat, constricting his air, and he's not sure he trusts his voice so instead he just nods his head. Shigeru touches the top of it gently, and there's a small smile on his face. "There's a small candle inside that helps it fly, we'll light it once the sun goes down."

"It may not--" Kentarou stops, clearing his throat so his voice feels less heavy, and it seems to work well enough at least. "Her spirit has long since been carried by the Valkyries. I'm not sure that something like this..."

He trails off, and Shigeru shrugs his shoulders with a slight smile. "Well. It won't hurt to try, will it?"

Kentarou shakes his head, cupping the small lantern in his hands. It feels weak, made of nothing but paper and without even magic to help carry it, and he's worried in part that he'll crush the poor thing before they even make it to nightfall. "Thank you."

Shigeru looks surprised to hear it, and it might just be the red of the setting sun spreading out over the sea, but it seems like his neck goes red before he nods. "No trouble at all."

The sun sinks into the sea, and when the sky is dark, Kunimi and the other knight that Kentarou doesn't recognize both light matches in their hands, leaning to light each lantern including the one that Kentarou holds like a small animal between his cupped palms. Hayato tosses him into the air first, tilting his head back and blowing upward at it, and a small gust of wind arrives to lift it into the air.

"Ours are for our ancestors," Shigeru explains, tossing his without the show of magic. It soars just as easily into the air, joining the hundreds that are rising from other boats and the shore itself, filling the air with warm golden light that drowns out the stars. Kentarou nods, feeling slightly strange as he lets the little paper lantern go to be carried off by the wind. Shigeru watches it, lifting his fingers, and Kentarou can feel the updraft that lifts his lantern higher so it's spiraling up into the sky with the rest of them, and he can't help but grin, nudging his side against Shigeru's. He considers mumbling another thank you but when Shigeru turns to face him he looks surprised for a moment, his lips slightly parting into an 'o' shape.

"What?" Kentarou asks, looking nervously over his shoulder and half expecting an enemy warship to be rising over the horizon.

But the ocean behind him is calm save for the other boats and the lanterns. When he looks back, Shigeru is looking at his lap and clenching his fingers tightly together. Before Kentarou can ask again, he shakes his head quickly. "Nothing. It's nothing.”

Kentarou huffs softly, not sure that he believes it. Runa is slumping against Hayato's side, lulled to sleep by the rocking of the boat, and Kentarou feels so heavy and tired that he could probably join her if he had a cooperative pillow. He glances at Shigeru, and leaning on his shoulder seems strangely inviting for a moment.

But it's a foolish thought, and instead, he sits up straighter, ignoring it.

Shigeru remains quiet, even as they begin rowing back toward shore, watching Kentarou's yawns get wider and wider, slouching over once more. He laughs, leaning his weight invitingly into Kentarou's side and rolling his eyes. "Just rest. It'll take some time before we can leave, anyway."

Too tired to argue, and finding that he doesn't truly want to, Kentarou leans his head on Shigeru's shoulder and shuts his eyes.

And it's probably just to keep him from tumbling out into the sea, but Shigeru's arm wraps around his back, his hand resting warm and certain against Kentarou's hip.

 

 

* * *

It's unusual for Alisa Haiba to stay for more than a day or two while visiting Tooru. This time, she arrived a week before the festival, and several days later still hasn't left.

Shigeru himself doesn't mind; she's beautiful and inviting, easy to make conversation with, and in contrast to her attitude as a child she always has something warm to say about Tooru.

It makes Tooru's behavior seem that much more strange. The longer she stays, the more sullen he becomes, until he isn't leaving his rooms without the aid of Iwaizumi dragging him along by the arm and ignoring his complaints.

But Iwaizumi is not there when Shigeru and Tooru run into each other. Shigeru, on his way to the kitchens, is surprised to find Tooru leaning on the wall outside of the throne room and pressing his face into his hands, long fingers digging into his hair. His shoulders are shaking slightly, and Shigeru has seen enough of Tooru's theatrical crying since he was a child to know the difference. These aren't tears meant for anyone else to see.

He hesitates, and for a moment he considers turning around and acting like he hasn't seen a thing, but something about that seems cruel in a way that he can't abide. Instead, he straightens his shoulders and positions himself next to Tooru. He doesn't say anything at first, and for a moment Tooru doesn't lift his head like he doesn't notice Shigeru standing there. Shigeru is ready to walk away, to take the signal that whatever's on his mind isn't something that Tooru is ready to talk about when he picks his head up and wipes his eyes quickly.

Because it's Tooru, he tries to replace his tears too quickly with a smile. They're still welling in his red-rimmed eyes, and the corners of his mouth are trembling. "Shi-chan!"

"You don't have to playact with me," he answers, sounding more annoyed than he intends to. Still, it works, because Tooru drops the smile and wipes his face messily on his sleeve.

"Don't tell Iwa-chan." Is the first real thing he says, dropping his arm and shaking his head. He rakes his fingers through his hair, trying to arrange it into place once again. "Please."

"I won't," Shigeru promises, though he's not sure what that truly means. If he's merely supposed to keep Tooru's tears a secret, or--

"They've had me in these wedding planning meetings every day," Tooru tilts his head back, coughing out a wet laugh. "I don't know _why_. It's not like I have any say in this."

It takes a moment for Shigeru to understand what they're talking about. It's always been true, of course, that neither of them would have a say in getting married. It's part of being royalty; just one of the ways the system works. Still, it's harder for Shigeru to justify that to himself with Tooru directly in front of him looking so forlorn. Shigeru wavers for a moment, wondering what the right thing to say is.

He realizes that he's not sure, and so for a moment he gives up on trying to be _right_.

"I'm sorry." He leans his weight on the wall next to Tooru, tucking his hands behind his back. "You wish you had a choice, don't you?"

Tooru looks over at him with a tilted head and an eyebrow raised. "You don't?"

"I... I don't know." Shigeru shrugs his shoulders, laughing just once at himself. "I really never thought about it. I'd probably pick the wrong person."

"The person you love wouldn't be the wrong choice." And again, Shigeru knows that Tooru isn't just talking about him and his choices. It's always like this, talking to Tooru; he knows how to talk about two things at once as if they're just the same. "That's the point of being in love, Shi-chan. You have to have faith in that person."

"And in yourself," Shigeru supplies, and Tooru hums. Shigeru wonders but doesn't ask, who exactly Tooru is thinking of. He's sure there has to be someone—Tooru seems too sure of himself to be running on the fantasy of falling in love one day. It's knowing that he's already lost the person that he loves that must be bothering him so much.

Shigeru isn't sure how to help with that; he's never been in love. He isn't good with people the same way that Tooru is, and he was never brave enough to try his luck with the noble ladies who sometimes expressed interest in him. He looks away from Tooru, down at his feet instead. "Do... does the person you love know?"

"Know what? That I'm getting married?" Tooru doesn't sound surprised by the question, Shigeru didn't expect him to be, but still he shakes his head and looks up with a slight frown.

"That you love them." It seems like an obvious answer, even with how hopeless Shigeru knows the romance would be. Tooru being in love won't change his wedding plans, just like Shigeru hating Kentarou for the rest of his life wouldn't have changed their union either.

Marriage, in their family, has never been about love.

"No," Tooru answers, almost too quickly, then seems to reconsider. "I've never said it. He might know anyway."

Shigeru nods his head, untucking his hands and rubbing the back of his neck with a frown. Tooru smiles. "You think I should tell him."

"I don't know. I think I would try it," Shigeru laughs.

"There's nothing to gain from it," Tooru sighs, shaking his head. "He wouldn't want to be anyone's secret lover, least of all mine. If he doesn't know at this point it's because he doesn't want to."

There's a suspicion building in the back of Shigeru's mind, and try as he might he can't seem to keep it trapped behind his teeth. "Maybe you don't have to gain anything from it, but you wouldn't want to lose something you have already, would you?"

Tooru blinks twice, his face opening in surprise, the clever mask falling away from his features. Shigeru knows too well how hard it can be to hold onto, and it's one of the things that makes Shigeru feel as though Tooru is truly his brother, the way he sometimes lets go of his defense entirely. "He'll say no."

"Don't ask him for anything." Shigeru shrugs his shoulders, standing upright once again. "Just tell him, but don't ask. Let him decide for himself what it should mean."

Tooru sighs, dropping his head. When he lifts it again, his smile is back in place like nothing was ever amiss, and he ruffles Shigeru's hair with a loud laugh. "Shi-chan is getting so wise in his old age!"

He doesn't say thank you before he strides away on confident legs, leaving Shigeru to right his hair, but he doesn't need to either.

 

 

* * *

Kentarou is running through combat exercises in the limited space of his room when Kindaichi comes stumbling through the door, fast enough that he nearly trips over his long legs and winds up flat on his stomach. Tsukishima turns from his post at the door to blink at him, a slight smirk on his face, as entertained as he always is by Kindaichi's fumbling. "Did you just learn to walk yesterday?"

For once, Kindaichi doesn't gripe back at him. He rights himself with a quick bow, panting out sharp breaths of air like he just ran himself through the whole palace. Kentarou pauses, sheathing his sword and furrowing his brow while he waits for Kindaichi to speak.

"T- there's somebody here to um, see you." He stands when he's finished speaking, rubbing the back of his neck with a frown. "Um, he said you're the only person he'll deliver a message to."

Well, Kentarou wasn't expecting any kind of message, for sure. Kindaichi pauses for a moment like he's trying hard to remember something before perking up once more. "Kenma! That's what he said his name was."

Kentarou can feel his eyes going so wide it's probably comical, judging by the way that Tsukishima snickers at him. Still, he finds himself charging out of the room, forgetting his sword on his way to jog down the stairs. Both Kindaichi and Tsukishima follow him, and Kindaichi pipes up just enough to tell Kentarou that he's by the stables.

When they arrive in their small group, Kenma is staring at the archers on the wall of the palace like a bored cat. The first thing that surprises Kentarou is not seeing Kenma there, but the fact that the constant shadow of Tetsurou isn't with him. He looks smaller, more vulnerable without the companionship despite the fact that Kentarou knows he's anything but. He perks up when Kentarou emerges, or at least as much as Kenma perks up for anything that isn't a gift or a particularly easy target to hit with his bow.

His weapons are in a small pile by his foot, his bow, and quiver, as well as a small hunting knife. He doesn't smile or bow to Kentarou, but he reaches into his pack and produces a letter, thickly bound in dark string. Every knight gathered around them tenses, but Kentarou finds himself laughing, closing the distance and wrapping Kenma in a hug that startles a small sound out of him. He's mostly slack in Kentarou's embrace, leaning forward slightly like he's afraid to lose his balance. Still, when Kentarou releases him he's smiling. "I missed you too."

"They sent you with a message?" Kentarou asks, taking the letter and furrowing his brow at it. Kenma, with his reluctance to do anything difficult or with haste, is hardly the first choice as a messenger. Hinata is a more likely one, though he's too young to be trusted traveling such a great distance on his own.

"It was important that no one else see it," Kenma shrugs his shoulders, looking at the knights around them with obvious distaste on his face. "They weren't happy with that answer."

It's not a good sign, to say the least. There's another bustle of activity behind them, and Kentarou turns to see Shigeru jogging out with Kunimi walking more slowly behind him. He looks at Kenma and frowns, his eyes tracing between him and Kentarou for a moment.

"Kenma won't cause any trouble," he grumbles, and that seems to relax Shigeru. He holds the letter up, still unopened. "He had to bring this to me."

"I see," Shigeru responds, his voice tight and neutral. Kentarou has seen this blank sort of expression on his face before; carefully withholding his thoughts and his emotions. He steps forward, and Kentarou can feel the way that Kenma tenses slightly as he tries to read Shigeru, a slight frown on his face.

"He's the one you're marrying," Kenma supplies, no introductions required.

"Prince Shigeru," Shigeru answers, crisp and sharp, and Kentarou isn't sure if this is going well or poorly at this point. Kenma nods his head like he's not sure why he's expected to care about that information on his own.

"Well, there's no reason to leave you to conduct business outside," Shigeru nods his head toward the doors, and then looks down at the bow by Kenma's feet with a slight frown. "It'll be better if you leave that out here, though."

Kenma shrugs his shoulders and walks behind Kentarou, leaving it for one of the knights to pick up. He raises one eyebrow at Kentarou, a smirk slight on his face. "You've been causing trouble."

"It's a long story," he huffs, feeling slightly put out. Kenma looks over his shoulder at Tsukishima following them but says nothing.

Kentarou doesn't open the letter until the three of them are inside his room once again, with Tsukishima standing outside the closed door. Kentarou unwraps it with little care, while Kenma pokes around the room slightly, running his fingers over the runes that have carved locks and alarms into the windows, into the door that joins with Shigeru's room. After the first brush with assassins and their return, Kentarou strengthened the spells. Now instead of simply waking him, they're also ready to bind anyone who intrudes and to silence them.

The letter is written in what Kentarou recognizes as Sugawara's handwriting. The script would be elegant if it weren't so rushed; Sugawara has trouble making time for anything and his writing always reflects his haste to complete the next task.

It's the contents of the letter, of course, that Kenma was sent to protect, and as soon as Kentarou reads it he understands why.

His father is ill— dying, and Kentarou will have to return after he's wedded to take his place as chief, as king. The knowledge makes his stomach constrict like a lead coil has been wrapped around it, and he stares at the letter in confusion for several minutes like he could somehow change the news.

The anger that he was so sure he still harbored toward his father for sending him here as a prisoner is nowhere to be found. He must sit for a long time and re-read the news, because he's surprised by Shigeru's hand touching the back of his shoulder, and he startles so hard that he nearly drops the letter.

"What's going on?" The concern on his face is earnest, and Kentarou folds it quickly, the paper wrinkling in his hands. When he fails to come up with the words to explain, Kenma answers for him.

"Chief Takahashi is dying," his voice isn't unkind, but he doesn't mince his words either. Kentarou would never expect Kenma to, but still, the phrase makes his shoulders flinch. Shigeru nods his head slowly, looking like the news takes a moment to settle in for him.

"Your father." It isn't a question but Kentarou nods his head. Again, Shigeru's touch surprises him but this time, it's a light rub on the back of his shoulder.

"I'm sorry," he says, and his hand is warm between Kentarou's shoulders. He looks down at the folded letter but draws his own conclusions rather than asking for it. "He's ill?"

"It's not," Kentarou finally forces words out of his clogged throat. He feels foolish, like a child being told that his mother was never coming home all over again. "It's not the way he'd want to go."

Kenma frowns at that, ducking behind his hair, and Kentarou knows he's right. Shigeru tilts his head, his hand falling to the side once more. "Does it matter? If he's sick..."

"It's dishonorable," Kenma lifts his head, hair still covering his face. "For a warrior to waste away in a bed. His spirit won't pass on as it should."

"To have your spirit shown to the golden halls, you have to die with honor," Kentarou sighs. "There's no honor in being eaten slowly."

Kenma nods his head, Shigeru looks at them as if they've both gone mad.

"What happens if you fall ill then?" He asks, sounding like he isn't even sure he wants to hear the answer. Kenma's shoulders shrug.

"Your spirit wanders. Sometimes it's claimed for other purposes, but usually, you're simply lost." He glances to Kentarou, tucking his hands at his sides. "It's a sad fate for someone like Takahashi."

Kentarou scrubs his fingers through his hair roughly, tugging slightly at the length of it. "How long, then?"

"Less than two months," Kenma answers, nodding his head at the letter. "Suga said that he's still strong and he's still fighting, but it's been more than a week since I left."

"And another message would take at least that long to reach me," Kentarou continues, and Shigeru sighs, clearly grasping the situation as it stands before him now.

"So you need to leave as soon as you can." He taps his fingers against his thigh, pacing the length of the room slightly. "Either they'll have to rush the plans for the wedding, or you'll have to go before it."

"Will your family allow that?" Kentarou lifts his head, not sure if he's hoping the answer is yes or no. They've put so much effort up to this point in preventing him from leaving that returning home sounds like a strange option suddenly, and he's not sure how to weigh the choices. Shigeru shakes his head.

"I don't think so. Ichirou needs our alliance before he makes any further moves in the north. I don't think he would let go of it so easily." He stops pacing, turning sharply on his heel and wrenching the door open. Tsukishima doesn't startle, still standing stiff as a board outside the door, but he turns to bow his head to Shigeru. "Please fetch Yamaguchi for me. I have some things I'll need him to do."

"Of course, My Lord." Tsukishima hardly sounds like he means it, but he strides away from the door after glaring at Kenma.

A small smirk catches on Kenma's face when the door shuts again. "He was listening through the crack."

Shigeru looks slightly startled but Kentarou chuckles. "It's not easy to hide anything from Kenma."

"I'll keep it in mind," Shigeru laughs, though it comes out sounding slightly forced.

 

Shigeru sends Yamaguchi off with a head full of messages for different people, things that Kentarou doesn't even understand the purpose of. And when the butler dashes out again he flops himself onto Kentarou's bed with a groan. "Politics."

Usually, Kentarou would be more than happy to take the chance to joke at Shigeru's expense, but this time, he merely nods his head slightly and grunts. Shigeru sits up and seems to remember why they're in this situation, to begin with, because he stands quickly, re-arranging his hair. "I'll leave you two for now. I'll send Tsukishima to get you when it's time for dinner."

With that, he makes his way out into the hall, ignoring the disused door that leads to his own room. Kenma watches him go before taking a seat on the bed next to Kentarou, crossing his legs under him and humming.

"You two get along." He nods his head at the door and Kentarou shrugs, though he's long since learned that arguing against Kenma doesn't amount to much. "He seems to care about you, at least."

"I saved his life," Kentarou answers, feeling the need to defend himself though he can't explain why. "And he saved mine. We... understand each other."

"So you care about him too." Kenma smiles and tugs slightly at Kentarou's arm when he looks away with a huff. "Do you want to hear how things are?"

That draws a smile out of Kentarou and he nods his head. "Yeah. I'd like to hear about everything."

 

 

* * *

Kentarou's friend Kenma stays only a few days, long enough to relay his message and sit up late at night talking to Kentarou about news from their home before he boards the next boat bound for the north. Surprisingly, Kentarou doesn't seem concerned by the idea of him traveling such a great distance alone, which only makes Shigeru warier of him once he has both bow and quiver strapped to his back once more.

Kentarou does hug him before he goes, which Kenma accepts much like a very reluctant cat might, arms loose around Kentarou's back for only a moment before they drop limply to his sides once again. And then he's gone, and Kentarou seems homesick and sad all over again.

Shigeru tries not to be frustrated by it; at least, this time, Kentarou doesn't respond by snapping at him or trying to shut him out. But he's slightly more distant and much quieter after the visit.

Unsure what he's supposed to do about it, Shigeru winds up doing nothing. He and Kentarou spend days only speaking a few words to one another, barely interacting at all. He teaches Shigeru magic still, but it's obvious that he's not entirely focused on the task.

It's then that he realizes that Kentarou is still sad about the news of his father, and he isn't sure what he should do about that either.

Still, they both have duties that make avoiding one another entirely impossible, and the ball that his parents have been planning almost since Kentarou's arrival to celebrate the engagement is hardly something either of them can miss. Shigeru doesn't see Kentarou in the day leading up to the event; he's too busy being pampered and dressed to find the time to sneak away and make sure Kentarou isn't giving anyone too much trouble. He doesn't see Tooru either, though he's sure that his older brother is around somewhere trying to find himself an appropriate last minute date since Alisa has recently returned home as well.

He and Kentarou are set to make a grand entrance to the ball together, once it's already begun. Shigeru, standing outside the high double doors that lead to the ballroom, is strangely nervous about the evening ahead. It's foolish to be, of course. He's been through much more dangerous situations with Kentarou than a simple party, but when Kentarou steps up quietly beside him Shigeru startles so badly that he nearly falls over. Out of reflex, one of Kentarou's hands shoots out to catch his elbow and steady him.

Shigeru turns to him with a sheepish smile, and he's not entirely prepared for the sight that he's met with. Kentarou has been resistant to any of the formalwear that's been shoved at him up to this point, and so the sight of him dressed in a dark suit with colors that match Shigeru's own is a surprise. His hair has been cut short again as well, and it's a look that suits him better than the shaggy, half-grown cut he had been working his way into until now. It's all enough of a surprise that Shigeru forgets he should be saying something, and he winds up staring at Kentarou until his cheeks flush and he looks away.

"This looks stupid," he grumbles, and his hand falls away from Shigeru's arm, leaving the lingering warmth of his fingers behind. Shigeru shakes his head quickly, aware he's tripping over himself like one of the noblewomen who show up at these parties just to confess their love to Tooru.

"You look..." Shigeru isn't sure what to say about how Kentarou looks. Attractive, of course. The suit is tailored closely to his form, leaving no doubt with its shape that he has the muscles of a warrior. But there's something more than just _attractive_ to the look, something that's making Shigeru's heart claw its way uncomfortably into his throat. He clears it twice, while Kentarou fiddles self-consciously with the buttons on his sleeves. "Fine."

It's an awkward finish, and it probably does nothing to make Kentarou actually feel better, but Shigeru seems to be at a loss for words. Kentarou gives him a look that might be a glare or might be out of disbelief, Shigeru isn't sure, but he does his best to smile brightly, holding it firmly on his face. It's a party, they should both be doing their best to look happy, like they actually like being around each other.

Shigeru finds both of those things are oddly true, at this point. Kentarou is definitely glaring at him now, and he hasn't said anything, so Shigeru relaxes his expression and sighs softly, rubbing the back of his neck. "I mean it. You look good, and I'm not going to make you do anything weird."

"Just the dancing, right?" Kentarou asks, and there's the tease of a smile on his face, and Shigeru hopes he isn't blushing because his face feels warmer suddenly. Still, he's a prince and he has enough control of himself not to blush like a schoolgirl over Kentarou of all people. He nods his head, reaching and taking Kentarou's hand before the doors open. Kentarou doesn't resist, lacing their fingers together.

The doors swing open smoothly, and Shigeru stands as straight as he can, fixing his eyes forward and ignoring the crowd of people staring at them. Kentarou does the same, but his hand squeezes slightly tighter around Shigeru's. Nerves, he figures, and he gives it a slight squeeze in return. He thinks he sees Kentarou's shoulders relax, though perhaps it's just his imagination. The two of them walk until they reach a roughly circular clearing amongst the people in the center of the dance floor, and Shigeru breathes out slowly before he turns to face Kentarou.

He looks nervous from all the attention trained on them, it's simmering below the surface of his neutral glaring expression, and Shigeru tries to give him a small smile, just to let him know they'll be alright. Again, he isn't sure if it works but he lifts Kentarou's hand so both of their arms are extended straight out and without prompting Kentarou places his hand on Shigeru's shoulder. In return, Shigeru places his on Kentarou's waist before the music begins to play behind them.

When they practiced, he had told Kentarou just to focus on him during the dance rather than all of the people gathered around them. It works well for keeping him from getting dizzy, or too nervous to remember the steps in front of an audience. But, in the moment Shigeru isn't ready to have Kentarou's attention so intently focused on him. There's a small wrinkle of focus between his eyebrows in the beginning as he gets used to the steps, the music, the gentle pace at which Shigeru is turning them. People have stopped just watching around them and have begun to dance as well, and so Shigeru lets himself relax slightly with the knowledge that they aren't the whole focus of the room around them.

There's a sound behind him, something dissonant against the swelling background of the music and rustle of fabric, like a chord struck improperly. Kentarou's head lifts, and though Shigeru can't place what the noise itself was, Kentarou narrows his eyes and looks over Shigeru's shoulder now, his footsteps faltering out of rhythm with the music.

"What?" Shigeru blinks, craning to look over his shoulder, stumbling at what—who he sees.

It would be hard to mistake Komaki after his time in captivity, even with the lower half of his face obscured by black fabric. There are two other assassins with him, dressed exactly the same with bare swords in their hands and Shigeru can feel panic wrapping around his lungs and constricting like a snake. He doesn't know what to do about them and he freezes, his fingers tight around Kentarou's.

Kentarou, luckily, doesn't freeze or panic. He peels his hand out of Shigeru's and turns them so his body is placed between Shigeru and the approaching danger, his face set in a harsh glare and intensely focused. He reaches to his hip and seems to recall that he's not armed this time, but no surprise shows on his face. Kentarou seems to have forgotten, or perhaps he doesn't care, that the assassins are here to kill _him_ and not Shigeru. His fingers crook slightly like his hands are claws, forming a posture Shigeru recognizes for casting spells.

There's the twang of a bowstring, the music having stopped now as people scramble away in panic, and Shigeru's body jerks in a sympathetic response, remembering the quivering arrow sticking out of the back of Kentarou's shoulder.

Instead, it hits a translucent blue pane that hovers in front of him suddenly and vanishes. Kentarou's teeth are grit with the effort of maintaining what must be a difficult spell because he lets it drop a moment later, the air hissing with the remnants of magic and heat. Kentarou doesn't close his eyes, but the air around him seems to shimmer for a moment, and Shigeru stumbles back as what appears to be a dragon form in the air beside him. He recalls the tattoo of one on Kentarou's body, but he wouldn't have expected something so huge and impressive. It throws its head back with a roar that tears sharply through the air, and at this the assassins do falter.

Kentarou doesn't; he gestures his hand slightly forward and the dragon lunges, ripping through the empty air that now separates him and Komaki from one another. Komaki shouts, though it's muffled by the fabric covering his mouth, and he slashes his sword forward toward the charging beast. The blade skids off of the deep blue scales of the dragon, throwing sparks and leaving no damage behind. The dragon knocks Komaki easily to his back, holding him to the floor with one massive scaled foot, and using its snapping jaws to rip the sword from his hand.

There are beads of sweat running down the back of Kentarou's neck, and his hands are shaking now. The other two assassins seem to hesitate before focusing on the prince rather than the dragon holding down their leader. Shigeru can see a thin black thread that connects the dragon to Kentarou, emerging from his back where the tattoo is located.

One of the assassins, the one to the right, swings at Kentarou's side and he dodges back, whipping his trembling arm toward the attacker. There's another tremble of heat in the air, along with the smell of burning sugar before a ball of fire leaps from Kentarou's palm toward the assassin. It's blocked away by the sword and Shigeru shoves himself forward, trying to think of any spell that Kentarou has taught him that might help here to keep him safe.

He doesn't get the chance to try anything stupid and reckless because Iwaizumi manages to shoulder his way through the crowd, sword drawn and dressed in his armor as usual. Kentarou turns halfway toward him, teeth bared like he's expecting another enemy.

The attacker to the left swings, and this time instead of trying to hit Kentarou or the dragon, his sword slices through the black thread connected to Kentarou's body. The dragon seems to shudder, held stationary in the air for a moment before the image of it vanishes like ink smeared across a page. Komaki picks himself up, the mask knocked away and his clothing damaged, and Kentarou drops down to one knee, gripping hard at his back where the thread had connected.

On his knees, he lifts his head to stare up at both advancing assassins, peeling his hand away from his side to draw two runes in the air, and his hand moves quickly enough that Shigeru can't begin to recognize the marks.

Two things happen in the time it takes for the nearest attacker to swing his sword at Kentarou. The first is Iwaizumi lunging forward the last foot he needs to parry the strike, the metal of his sword clashing loudly against that of the assassins. The second is another blue colored shield wrapping around Kentarou's arm and chipping when an arrow strikes against it. It takes Shigeru a moment to realize that it's made of ice, rather than pure magic like the one he used to block the first arrow. It sticks in the ice, shaking slightly before Kentarou pulls it out.

He's tired, it's easy to see, but both attackers and Komaki, have turned their attention to Iwaizumi now. Iwaizumi has a hard, focused look on his face, turning and pivoting his body to block strikes from both assassins away. Shigeru stumbles forward, surprised by how heavy his legs feel, and pulls Kentarou up by his free arm, dragging him back from the fighting.

He doesn't resist, his body sags heavily against Shigeru's weight, tired from the overuse of magic. Shigeru struggles slightly with supporting the burden of Kentarou's weight, watching Tsukishima cut into Komaki's line of sight with the tower shield he favors blocking his body. He cuts through the wood of the bow in a single stroke, and Shigeru realizes that the ball around them has ground to a halt, instead of watching the knights work on subduing the intruders.

They succeed, of course, with Kindaichi and Kunimi arriving to assist Iwaizumi. Kentarou lifts his arm over Shigeru's shoulder, leveraging his weight more comfortably against Shigeru's body and breathing heavily. Shigeru wraps an arm around his waist in return, trying to be careful in case he's injured somewhere that Shigeru can't see.

With the addition of numbers, as well as being properly armored and armed, it isn't hard for Iwaizumi to finish the fight with all three assassins being marched out of the ballroom with hands bound behind their backs. He turns toward them, a slight frown on his face as he looks Kentarou over as well.

"Someone should check on your injuries," he decides after a moment and Kentarou shakes his head, standing without Shigeru's help after a slight struggle to free his arm.

"I'm fine. Just tired." He shakes his head, sagging slightly against his own weight, and Iwaizumi hesitates before nodding his head in agreement. He looks at Shigeru then instead, seeming satisfied with his slightly mussed, but uninjured appearance.

"Take him to lay down. I'll figure out who's trying to kill him." With the tone of his voice, Shigeru has no doubt that that's true. He keeps his arm wrapped around Kentarou's waist, and after a few steps he stops resisting the help and drapes himself over Shigeru once again.

Getting him up the stairs is difficult enough that Shigeru doesn't bother dragging the two of them into separate rooms. He lays Kentarou in his bed, being as gentle as he can, glad when he doesn't groan or flinch but simply rolls on his side with a slight sigh. "I haven't had to fight with magic like that in a long time."

"Is your back okay?" Shigeru asks softly, his hands hovering over the buttons that hold Kentarou's jacket closed. It would be improper, of course, to try and undress Kentarou, but his concern is nearly enough to override his manners.

Kentarou nods, sitting up and pulling his shirt out of his slacks, raising it so Shigeru can see the unmarked tattoo. "It stings, but I'll be fine in a few minutes."

Shigeru nods, and for lack of something better to do with himself he sits on the bed next to Kentarou, surprised to find that his hands are shaking slightly. He clenches them together in his lap, hoping it makes them stop. "Thank you."

Looking confused, Kentarou blinks at him, a slight frown on his face and Shigeru laughs unevenly before he tries to explain. "You knew they weren't after me... but you pushed me behind you anyway."

"Oh," Kentarou looks away, a touch of pink on his ears. "That. I didn't want you in my way."

"Of course," Shigeru grins slightly, leaning closer to Kentarou. "It's not at all because you didn't want me to get shot, is it?"

"I wouldn't care," Kentarou snaps, turning his head back toward Shigeru. They're closer together than Shigeru expects, close enough that if he tried he might be able to count each of the dark lashes that make Kentarou's eyes look so intense. He can feel heat rising up the back of his neck, sliding his eyes away from Kentarou's only to catch himself staring at the curve of his lips for a moment instead.

"I'm sure," he means it to tease but his heart isn't in it, leaning back quickly. He's not sure where the sudden desire to kiss him comes from, but he knows that it's best to distance himself before he does something stupid.

Something stupid like actually pressing his lips against Kentarou's. Kentarou looks confused by Shigeru's response, hovering like he's not sure if he's done something wrong. Shigeru coughs slightly, trying to break the sudden tension stuck in the air. "I'm sure that Iwaizumi-san will find out what's going on."

"Right," Kentarou has his eyes narrowed slightly, but he doesn't question Shigeru or the change in subject any further. Shigeru stands, nerves settling heavy in his stomach and filling him with the desire to move despite the fact that his limbs still feel shaky. Kentarou watches him for a moment before rolling his eyes. "It'll probably take a little while for you to calm down."

"What?" Shigeru turns, laughing slightly awkwardly at himself. He would like to be able to claim that he's calm already if it weren't so plainly a lie he might. Kentarou rolls his eyes slightly, nodding at Shigeru now pacing the length of the room.

"It's adrenaline." He rolls his eyes, pushing himself up slowly and grabbing Shigeru's arm to stop him from making another circuit around the room. "From the fighting. Your body still thinks you're in danger."

"Oh," Shigeru's face flushes, stumbling an awkward half-step back to keep space between himself and Kentarou. He nods his head, drawing in a deep breath but still almost leaping out of his skin when Tooru sweeps into the room without the courtesy of a knock.

He pauses, staring at the two of them standing so close to each other with a grin spreading slowly across his face. "Should I come back later?"

"Why would you do that?" Kentarou blinks, looking between Tooru's grin and the blush blooming on Shigeru's cheeks. Tooru clicks his tongue, amusement still glittering in his eyes.

"I just thought the two of you seemed a little busy," his tone is almost a purr, but the meaning is lost on Kentarou who continues staring at the both of them like he's waiting for the punchline of a joke. Shigeru clears his throat, shaking his head quickly.

"We're not. Do you know what's going on?" He asks, pulling his arm back from Kentarou's light grasp and crossing them over his chest. Tooru nods his head, grinning.

"It turns out that a certain member of our own nobility was trying to see your poor fiance killed." He sighs, flapping his hand in the air like the knowledge itself is mostly boring. "Upset that you didn't marry his daughter, it seems. And he thought he would be able to sell weapons to the army if we went to war with the north."

Tooru grins after a moment, chuckling at the glares the two of them seem to be sharing. "It's a clever plan! Don't look so mad about it. I would have killed him too if there were anything to be gained by it."

"You could try," Kentarou growls, taking half a step forward. Tooru laughs, holding both of his hands up and shaking his head.

"I'm kidding! No need to rip my throat out, please." He looks past Kentarou over to Shigeru. "Ichirou is seeing that the whole thing will be taken care of by morning. The assassins and the nobleman, I suppose. He's not much of a fan of traitors."

Shigeru resists the urge to tell Tooru that's plenty of reason for him to be watching his own neck. Instead, he nods his head and bobs a small bow in appreciation. "Thank you. And thank Iwaizumi-san for his help as well."

"Well I'm hardly going to yell at him for saving your life, I suppose." He chuckles, and Kentarou furrows his brow. This time, Tooru actually takes the time to explain. "Iwa-chan is my personal guard, you see. By stepping in to help you, he was risking my life."

"Because you're hardly able to take care of yourself," Shigeru huffs, amused, and Tooru shrugs his shoulders.

"I am the only true mage in the family, but if anything had happened to me I'm sure Iwa-chan would spend plenty of time beating himself up for it." Tooru shrugs his shoulders. "Good thing they were only after Ken-chan, I suppose."

"Good thing," Kentarou grumbles, watching Tooru turn to leave. Tooru laughs softly but doesn't argue with him, letting himself out with only a few tutting remarks to Tsukishima as he walks back up the stairs.

Kentarou sighs, rubbing the back of his neck. "I guess that'll make it a little easier for me to sleep."

"You should get some rest," Shigeru agrees, nodding at Tsukishima in the doorway. Kentarou nods his head slowly, and Shigeru leaves at a speed that seems to be almost reluctant, for a moment.

Shigeru dismisses the thought, foolish as it is, and tumbles himself into bed instead.

 

 

* * *

Surprisingly, after the weeks of magic lessons and assorted personal questions that Kentarou has become used to getting from Shigeru, he isn’t expecting him to stop in the middle of drawing out a complex cleansing spell with his focus melting away into something sharp and determined. “I want you to teach me how to fight.”

Kentarou blinks in surprise, his brow furrowing even as the corners of his lips twitch into a surprised smile at the idea. “Why?”

“I don’t want to be helpless the next time something happens,” Shigeru explains, looking put out by Kentarou’s amusement. That gives him pause for a moment, recalling not only the fight at the ball but also his own helplessness after getting shot and poisoned. His smile fades and his fingers tap nervously at his thigh instead. Something about the idea of Shigeru having to pick up a weapon and hold his own in one of those situations makes something squirm uncomfortably in his stomach.

It’s strange, finding someone he so badly wants to protect, and stranger still to realize he feels that way about Shigeru. Even Suga, who Kentarou has known his whole life as the person to go see about broken noses and bruised ribs, is still a warrior in his own right, capable of taking care of himself. In many ways, Kentarou has never had anyone so close to him who might actually be in need of his protection. “No.”

He surprises himself with the answer, and Shigeru leans back with a scowl on his face. “Why not?”

As unrealistic as it is, Kentarou doesn’t want to be responsible for Shigeru getting into a fight that’s more than he can handle. He shakes his head once more, finding that the truth of it sticks in his throat; he cares too much to throw Shigeru to the wolves that way. “There’s no need for you to be the one fighting.”

“And what if you get hurt again?” Shigeru snorts, leaning forward this time, and Kentarou isn’t in the mood for backing down. He growls as he leans into Shigeru’s space in return, though Shigeru doesn’t lower his voice. “Are you looking to get us both killed?”

“That’s not going to happen,” he grumbles. Kentarou doesn’t realize how close the two of them are until a freckle at the corner of Shigeru’s mouth catches his attention. His lips are parted slightly around whatever he plans to say next. The corners of his mouth turn downward and Kentarou barely notices that he’s staring until Shigeru leans forward, his lips parting further.

On instinct, Kentarou leans back sharply, blinking as his eyes refocus on the room around them. Shigeru’s face is red, and his pupils seem oddly wide with the afternoon sun streaming in through the windows. For a moment, Shigeru seems to be frozen, blinking his eyes at the space Kentarou just vacated. He thaws slowly, his neck turning red at an alarming rate.

“F- fine,” he stammers, pushing himself to his feet. “I’ll talk to someone else instead.”

Kentarou stares at the door slams shut behind Shigeru, tossing his head back between his shoulders with a long groan.

 

Not seeing the point in it, he doesn’t chase after Shigeru. It’s far from the first time the two of them have gotten into an argument and Kentarou assumes it won’t be their last either.

Still, it’s a little less than luck that he hears Kindaichi stammering out awkward instructions when he just happens to be strolling by the training yard, Tsukishima in tow as always a day later. He stops at the opening to the hall that leads out to the proper yard, hesitating, and Tsukishima huffs one of those annoying little chuckles he’s so good at. “He demanded yesterday that Kindaichi teach him how to fight properly.”

He sounds far too entertained by that, and Kentarou gives him a small glare. Tsukishima doesn’t respond, doesn’t wither the way anyone else might. Kentarou’s used to the lack of a reaction by now, and instead, he edges himself out to peer into the yard, ignoring Tsukishima sighing like this is all some great burden on him.

Kindaichi looks positively terrified to be holding even a soft training blade against one of the princes, with wide eyes and a too tight grip on the hilt of the sword like he himself is just learning how to hold it. Shigeru’s form is no better, with his feet too close together and one of his hands awkwardly trying to grip the pommel of his blade, trying to stack both of them on a one-handed grip to put more force into his swing.

He uses too much, however, and only manages to spin himself in an ineffective circle three feet away from Kindaichi, who looks rather stricken. He coughs awkwardly, stepping forward. “M- maybe a different weapon would be—”

“I’ve been trained in the use of a sword before,” Shigeru snaps and Kindaichi shuts his mouth so hard that Kentarou can hear his teeth click. Still, Shigeru looks at the blade in his hand with a frustrated frown, and at this Kentarou is forced to step out of the concealing shadows of the doorway and shake his head.

“You need a real instructor if you insist on doing this,” he sighs. He can’t dig his heels in hard enough to resist this, it seems. Not where Shigeru is concerned. Kindaichi looks like a ray of light has just broken over him, and he wheels and bobs a quick, awkward bow in Kentarou’s direction. Shigeru glares at him, adjusting his grip on the sword to something slightly more natural.

“Well you already said you wouldn’t do it,” he speaks as if Kentarou hasn’t already changed his mind and given in. With a sigh, Kentarou beckons Shigeru to him, rolling his eyes when the prince glares stubbornly at him.

“I’ll help you, you idiot. You’re holding your sword wrong,” he snaps, and Shigeru’s ears are tipped with pink when he caves as well and steps over. Kentarou takes the sword, standing so they're shoulder to shoulder and spreading his feet apart so he’s grounded properly, nodding Shigeru’s attention to his hand. “Like this. And don’t try to swing it around with both hands.”

Shigeru nods his head but doesn’t argue back, this time, holding the sword in his hand the way Kentarou did once he takes it back. His feet are still too close together, and Kentarou shakes his head, stepping behind him and laying a hand on his hip, using his foot to nudge Shigeru’s legs apart. “Watch how you stand. You’ll get knocked over if you keep your feet together.”

“Oh,” Shigeru’s voice sounds slightly odd, but he nods his head, and the breath he lets out seems to shake slightly. Kentarou chalks it up to nerves and takes the practice blade that Kindaichi was using in hand.

“Alright. Hit me.” He takes a stance to mirror Shigeru’s and almost rolls his eyes at the grin that lights up Shigeru’s face. As if it’s going to be that easy for him. Kentarou lets him believe it for a moment, keeping his body loose and ready for whatever direction Shigeru might decide to attack from.

He seems to think about it for a moment before charging straight at Kentarou. He has his eyes trained so intently on Kentarou’s right side that the feint is easy to read, and rather than stepping out of its way, Kentarou raises his sword to parry the blow instead. It’s not strong enough to cause him to flinch,and he presses Shigeru’s strike back easily, shaking his head with a little huff.

"Try again." It's a simple command, given as Kentarou backs away again and readies his sword. This time, teeth grit into a line so harsh that Kentarou can see the knotting of his jaw, Shigeru rushes forward and swings from his shoulder like he's planning to cut Kentarou down like a wayward sapling.

Kentarou slides their blades together, this time, pleased that the clash they make upon impact seems to rattle Shigeru slightly. Kentarou pushes forward, making Shigeru shift his weight onto his heels to avoid being knocked over. With Shigeru's focus entirely on the joust of their swords, Kentarou takes the chance to sweep his leg, robbing Shigeru of the support he needs and knocking him easily to the ground. He extends his arm so the point of his blade is level with Shigeru's throat. Shigeru looks up at him with his brow tight, panting and leaning on his elbows. He's not staring at the soft, dull point of the practice sword, but instead up at Kentarou.

There's something in his expression that makes the victory over him feel less like a triumph and instead, makes something warm and unfamiliar squirm in the pit of Kentarou's stomach just for a moment. He ignores it, dropping his sword and holding a hand out to help Shigeru up. He takes it, and Kentarou pulls him easily back to his feet, nodding. "Try again."

After an hour of repeated attempts, Kentarou remains uninjured, while Shigeru is tired. He's panting, his sword loose in his grip and his arms clearly aching from the effort of swinging it so much, but there's still determination written across his face, which is more than Kentarou expects. He was sure that Shigeru would come up against the difficulty of actually learning to fight and give the notion up entirely, but despite the repeated failures, the embarrassment of having Kentarou knock him onto his backside a dozen times, Shigeru hasn't uttered a single complaint.

"One more," he grumbles through his heavy breaths, and Kentarou nods his head. He's tired as well, though less so. There's sweat sliding down the back of his neck, probably burnt from the unfamiliar summer sun, but he's willing to press on for as long as Shigeru is.

"One more." It's a simple agreement, but this time, instead of charging directly for him, Shigeru steps to the side. Kentarou blinks, watching him and mirroring the step, keeping them the same distance away from one another. This is something that Shigeru hasn't yet tried--thinking.

Strange, for someone who lives inside of his head as much as Shigeru seems to. Still, Kentarou has a decade of real experience and training over him, and being outsmarted isn't something he fears just yet. Shigeru moves slowly into his first strike, and by the time their swords ring together once again, Kentarou is more than prepared for it. But this time, Shigeru doesn't try to press the strike, doesn't try to destroy Kentarou's defenses through sheer brute force. He moves back more quickly than he came in, dancing out of Kentarou's range.

Curious, this time, Kentarou advances on him for the first time. He swings at Shigeru's side, a hole in his defense, but rather than try to parry the strike, Shigeru dances away, his feet kicking up dust as he moves. Kentarou chases him, a smile starting slowly on his face. Shigeru twists into his next strike, and this time, he moves so quickly that Kentarou is almost not prepared for it. The force behind it is light, enough that Kentarou can bat it away with the blunt of his sword, but Shigeru is gone again before he can be caught.

Still, Shigeru isn't practiced or trained, and Kentarou can already see him backing his way toward the wall rather than circling to the side so he won't find himself pinned. Kentarou swings at him again, heavy and slow, and while Shigeru lifts his arm to block and deflect the blow, he also backs up again. Kentarou presses and Shigeru nearly stumbles when his back ends up against the wall, darting a look over his shoulder in surprise. His lips part slightly, but when he looks forward again Kentarou is there, the dull edge of the blade hovering over Shigeru's throat.

Shigeru stares at him, surprise apparently rendering him unable to speak. His mouth is open slightly, and there's a touch of red at his cheeks, probably from the exertion. Kentarou can feel the grin on his face, and he doesn't back away as immediately as he did before. Shigeru swallows, Kentarou can see the bob of his throat reflected in the bright steel of the blade. It's only a moment before Kentarou drops the blade with a slight nod of his head, but Shigeru sighs out a hard breath, a tremble attached to the end of it like he was really afraid that Kentarou was going to slit his throat.

But, he smiles as he picks himself up away from the wall, and Kentarou takes the sword from his loose fingers, giving him a slight nod. "You did well."

The quiet mumble of thanks he gets in return doesn't quite erase all of Kentarou's worries, but it does make them seem more distant for the moment, at least.

 

 

* * *

"Shi-chan," the call of Tooru's voice as he cracks open the door to Shigeru's study is familiar, and for the moment at least, not irritating. He looks up at Tooru with the slight curve of a smile on his face, glad to be distracted from a trade agreement that Ichirou insists doesn't suitably benefit the family. "You're not busy, are you?"

"No." He shifts the papers in front of him to the side, looking at Tooru with a blink. It's strange of him to ask, and stranger for him to be there without Iwaizumi along behind him. "Is everything alright?"

"Of course," Tooru answers then sighs as if he's dissatisfied with his own answer to the question. "There's a lot of planning going on for your wedding, isn't there?"

Shigeru groans softly, shaking his head. He'd rather not be reminded, not so soon after the ordeal of the morning, with Yamaguchi dragging Kentarou off to have his suit fitted for no less than the third time. "There's a lot going on."

"And your new husband leaves right after?" Tooru asks, humming when Shigeru nods his head. These questions seem odd coming from Tooru. His voice is almost too soft, and there's none of his usual teasing. He sits on the edge of Shigeru's desk with a shake of his head and a light sigh. "I have to admit, I'm jealous of the whole thing, Shi-chan!"

There's the teasing that he was missing, at least. Shigeru leans his chin on his palm. "Why? I'm sure your wedding will be three times the size of mine."

"That's true," Tooru strokes his chin, looking as if he's deep in thought about the whole thing. "But I'm not in love with Alisa."

Shigeru opens his mouth to say something to that. To say anything to it. Then his mind catches up with what Tooru is _actually_ saying.

That he believes Shigeru is in love, honestly in love, with Kentarou.

A giddy laugh starts to bubble in Shigeru's chest at the sheer ridiculousness of it all. It's impossible to think, that he's in love with Kentarou and his frustrating habits. His stubbornness, the way he's so opposed to adopting a civilized manner. Kentarou is trouble heaped upon trouble. A boy who barely ever smiles and always acts like he's right, even when the entire world stacks facts against him. The laugh never quite makes it out of his mouth, and he winds up staring at Tooru with his mouth gaping slightly open like the shocked expression of a hooked fish.

He's _in love_ with Kyoutani Kentarou. Shigeru isn't sure how it managed to escape his notice for so long.

Tooru stares at him for a moment, then starts to laugh like a choking hyena, bent almost in half with his hands on his knees for balance. "You didn't know?"

"H- how could I?" Shigeru stumbles, not sure if he's asking himself how he failed to realize or how he managed to put himself in this situation, to begin with. It's a strange thing to find himself lamenting, that he so genuinely cares for the person he's going to be marrying within a few days.

Until he considers the matter of what feelings Kentarou must have for him in return. It's hardly a flattering thought--Kentarou is palpably excited about the matter of going back home, even with the uncertain status of his father hanging over his head. He hasn't said anything about the wedding outside of a few annoyed grumbles and Shigeru recalls well the conversation in the stables about being _partners_.

Tooru continues laughing until there are tears welling in his eyes and Shigeru is thinking very hard about pushing him off of the desk. He pulls himself together slowly, his laughter tapering off into chuckles as he wipes at his eyes. Shigeru glares at him, clenching his hands in his lap into fists. "This isn't a joke! What am I supposed to do?"

Blinking at him as if he's just said something mad, another rogue giggle slips past Tooru's lips. "About what? You're already marrying him."

"Politically! He's certainly not..." Shigeru trails off, shaking his head hard. There's a traitorous image hanging around behind his eyes of being able to kiss Kentarou, realizing that he's tried to already. "He doesn't feel the same way about me."

"Well, that's hardly an obstacle," Tooru smiles in a way that only he can, sweeping his bangs out of his eyes, the very picture of charm. "Just make him fall for you too."

"This is why Iwaizumi-san threatens to hit you," Shigeru observes dryly, and Tooru sighs.

"Neither of you are the least bit romantic. Every time I try to woo Iwa-chan he gets _mad_ at me for it," Tooru pouts, and Shigeru finds himself raising an eyebrow curiously.

"So you did tell him?" It's not as if Tooru would bring it up on his own if he weren't willing to talk about it. Tooru bites his lip slightly if only to hide his smile, before nodding his head.

"He turned me down, but I decided I'm not taking no for an answer," Tooru waves his wrist in the air and Shigeru shakes his head with a sigh.

"That's hardly going to woo Kentarou," he answers, and Tooru shrugs his shoulders.

"Take your own advice then, Shi-chan. Don't ask him for anything, just tell him." He shoves himself off of the desk with that, feet striking the floor lightly. He sweeps into a mock bow, peeking up through his hair with a grin dimpling on both of his cheeks. "What's the worst that could happen?"

Shigeru can think of a long list of things, at the top of which is Kentarou admitting he still hates Shigeru and the whole concept of marrying him. That Shigeru is simply a duty that Kentarou can't escape and that's what their relationship will be until both of them die. It's hardly a flattering thought, and it sends Shigeru drumming his fingers on the table with nerves threatening to strangle him.

Tooru sighs at his obvious panic, patting Shigeru lightly on the shoulder. "You're thinking too hard about all of this."

"It's not like he has much reason to like me," Shigeru responds, sinking his head between his shoulders, and Tooru rolls his eyes.

"You two already act as if you're married. You're friends, at the least," he smiles, giving Shigeru's shoulder a squeeze, the reassuring touch lingering there. "Being in love with your husband is hardly the end of the world."

Shigeru groans at the words, dropping his head to the desk and ignoring Tooru's light chuckle as he lets himself out of the room.

It would hardly be the end of Tooru's world, maybe, but Shigeru can't see this working out any way other than terribly for him.


	5. whole heart

_“It is not a lack of love, but a lack of friendship_

_that makes unhappy marriages.”_

― Friedrich Nietzsche

 

The day he’s to get married dawns hot and bright, with Shigeru rising even before the sun begins to peek through his window. Yamaguchi is already busy in the corner of his room by the time Shigeru drags himself out of bed, filling the basin with steaming water and something that smells loosely of roses for Shigeru to wash with.

His body drags as he gets himself ready—not a surprise, seeing as he was barely able to convince himself to sleep the night before.

There’s already a boat tied up in the harbor waiting to take Kentarou home the next morning, and Shigeru isn’t sure what he should do about that still.

But for now, he endures Yamaguchi helping him bathe without complaining, and hopes that Kentarou is doing the same for whoever is in charge of taking care of him this morning. They won’t see each other until the actual ceremony begins, which is a tradition that Shigeru could do well enough without at this point. The new suit made for him for the purpose of the wedding fits nicely and Yamaguchi is quick to help him dress.

Still, it seems he can’t help but ask questions. The first one of which Shigeru should have been expecting, he’ll probably be hearing it from the mouth of everyone he encounters today. “Are you excited?”

“I suppose,” Shigeru doesn’t mean to dodge the question, but his emotions are mixing in his stomach in a way that makes him feel just slightly ill. There’s excitement there, he’s sure, it’s just stuck under a thousand other feelings. Maybe it will hit him later when the actual ceremony itself begins, or maybe he’ll simply die on the spot before he has to get there.

There’s a long process of getting everything ready that stretches out ahead of him, and unfortunately none of it seems to lead him to his untimely end. He doesn’t even catch sight of Tooru flitting around, though the palace is more than busy enough to hide whatever activity he might be getting up to. Shigeru isn’t part of any of the preparations himself, and once he’s dressed and picked his way through a breakfast delivered up to his room, he’s mostly left sitting until it’s time for the ceremony itself.

Usually, the ceremony is in the evening, after a full day of revels. But, Shigeru is only the fourth son and his wedding was, by any standard, someone might choose to use, a rushed affair. The agenda for the day is a wedding at noon and a feast following it to celebrate the new union they’ve formed.

It hits Shigeru slowly, like the coiling of a great snake around his stomach, and by the time Yamaguchi is upstairs to fetch him to actually attend his own wedding, Shigeru has his clothes creased and ruffled from frantically pacing the length of the room. Yamaguchi blinks at him, a small smile creeping over his face. "Nervous?"

Shigeru pauses, wondering for a second if he should scold Yamaguchi for the informal tone of his voice before sighing instead and nodding his head. Yamaguchi hesitates, the door shutting quietly behind him. "P- please forgive me for speaking out of turn, My Lord, but it does seem like you and Prince Kentarou get along okay."

Surprised by his own laugh, Shigeru stops his pacing and shakes his head, squeezing his hands into fists behind his back. "I'm in love with him."

It's the first time he's actually managed to shape those words with his lips, and it's strange how they're light as air in rolling off of his tongue. Like a weightless confession, words that won't cost him anything. Yamaguchi looks confused, and Shigeru shakes his head before the butler opens his mouth with another question. "It's not a mutual feeling."

"I see," Yamaguchi answers, and Shigeru wonders just how true that might be. It's hard to explain to someone who will never see the situation first hand, how these kinds of political marriages tend to fare. At the very best, he and Kentarou could be partners; two people who support one another--companions, even. At the worst, they'll be like Tooru and Alisa; barely able to make eye contact, without a single word passing between them outside of the confines of their shared duties to pretend that they like one another. The idea of his relationship with Kentarou turning out that way makes Shigeru's stomach tighten further, and he wonders if he'll even make it down to the ceremony before he suffocates on his own nerves.

There's no time to change how he feels now, Shigeru knows. Even if it wasn't the bed he would have selected for himself, it's the one he's got to lay in now. He bobs a small, appreciative bow at Yamaguchi, smiling when the butler mirrors the gesture with a much deeper one of his own. When Yamaguchi stands again, there's a bright smile on his face, dimples standing out against the freckles on his tanned cheeks. "I'm sure it'll all work out for you, My Lord."

Even though he's slipped back into a formal tone of voice, there's still something warm and sincere to Yamaguchi's words, and Shigeru almost feels better walking down the stairs.

 

Shigeru walks down the long pathway to the altar on his own. The day is bright and hot, and there's a thick carpet laying over the summer grass at his feet. The season is just beginning to turn towards fall, but the heat hasn't yet begun to weaken and the days are still long and bright. The trellis under which the High Priest stands is woven thick with red flowers, ones Shigeru has seen dozens of times but always forgets the name of. They aren't native to Westlin, instead coming from a country even further to the east than Ryouma, where Alisa hails from. They're a transplant that took up firm roots in Westlin once they were introduced, and the thought makes Shigeru smile despite himself.

It's a poor metaphor for things as they stand now.

People stand from the benches that have been laid out on the grass as Shigeru passes, and there's a swell of music that matches the slow rhythm of his steps. There's also the soft clatter of two knights following behind him, but Shigeru doesn't look over his shoulder or turn to see who. One is likely to be Iwaizumi, and the other possibly Ichirou's knight or someone else that Shigeru barely knows. Men of higher rank than would ever be sent to guard over him. The pretense is important. The wedding itself is a pretense, and the illusion has to be flawless for the good of everyone.

For as long as he can recall, Shigeru's greatest goal is to be a flawless illusion himself. To be perfect at playing his part as the fourth son, to always stay inside the frame that he's been given. And really, Shigeru knows that he hasn't stepped outside of that frame.

But still, he wasn't meant to _enjoy_ standing here either, with his hands tucked behind his back and a cape too heavy and ornate for the hot summer weather draped over his shoulders. The music starts to swell once more, and Shigeru's breath catches in his throat slightly.

He'll feel guilty, later, for the way he swells nearly to bursting when Kentarou steps out of the dim shadows of the doorway and into the light. His eyes blink slightly against the noon sun, and like Shigeru, he walks up the carpeted path alone. Had he any family here, someone would likely walk with him for the illusion that he was being formally given away. But Kentarou isn't a blushing bride, and it's likely he said no to anyone else trying to walk with him. His back is straight, and Shigeru can't stop himself from appreciating the close fit of his suit, or the confidence with which he carries himself despite so many eyes resting on him.

Later, Shigeru will have plenty of time to feel guilty over the fact that he's in love with Kyoutani Kentarou; but the time he has to enjoy the fact that the two of them are about to be married is too short to waste on his guilt. Kentarou clears his throat slightly when he finally reaches the altar placed under the trellis, looking at it, the High Priest, and then finally at Shigeru. There's a slight frown on his face, and that only makes Shigeru's heart swell harder against the strict confinement of his ribs. Voice pitched low, he chuckles softly. "Smile. Pretend you like me."

Kentarou does smile at that, and Shigeru's fingers twitch and grip nervously at the hem of the cloak hanging over him. The assembled crowd sits, and Shigeru can see his parents in the very front row, flanked by personal guards, and with Ichirou and Tooru near them. Like any gathering of the royal family, weddings can be a dangerous affair, and Shigeru knows that the attempts to assassinate Kentarou have only added to the usual measures of security, even if the culprit in those crimes was apprehended already.

But Shigeru doesn't waste his time on counting guards to trying to spot the knights that have been hidden out in the crowd. The High Priest clears his throat and the music lulls before stopping, and the chatter of voices stops as well. Shigeru is left suspended for a moment listening to the frantic beating of his own heart and hoping that Kentarou can't hear it as well.

"You may now give the... groom your cloak, bringing him under your protection." There's a slight hesitation on the change of words, and for a moment the whole illusion crafted around them wobbles. It's not often for a prince of Westlin to be publically marrying another man, and perhaps Runa would have been the more typical choice in place of Shigeru.

Shigeru stands straighter as he slides the heavy cloth off of his shoulders, swinging it around Kentarou's back to drape over him instead. Kentarou leans in to make it easier to accomplish, his head ducking slightly, and Shigeru can see a flush of pink at the back of his neck. It's not a surprise, or at least not overly so, Kentarou doesn't seem to be a great fan of crowds or of being the center of attention. Typical or not, Shigeru is determined to hold onto what he has here.

The two of them turn toward the High Priest, each holding their hands out, Shigeru's on top of Kentarou's. Shigeru laces their fingers together on impulse, and Kentarou doesn't react. The priest takes a shuffling forward, speaking as he binds their hands together with a long ribbon of silk. “In the presence of all those gathered today; family, friends and esteemed guests, I now bind your hands together to symbolize your union of love, trust and support. With this binding, these two souls will become one for eternity.”

The moments pause before the High Priest continues feels like it stretches on far too long. “Do you, Shigeru Yahaba, Fourth Prince of Westlin, and you Kyoutani Kentarou, First Son of the Clan of Wolves, pledge to create a life of mutual respect, compassion, generosity, and patience toward each other as you grow together in years?”

“I do,” Shigeru answers, glad his voice comes out steady and even. In the end, it doesn’t matter if anyone else can hear him speak or not, since he isn’t sure he’s quite loud enough. Kentarou nods his head slightly before clearing his throat.

“I do,” his voice is low, but no more grumbling or sullen than Shigeru has heard him before.

“Do you pledge to recognize each other’s individuality and celebrate each other’s uniqueness as a strength in marriage. While at the same time, will you guard one another’s weaknesses with understanding, support, and inspiration?” The High Priest continues, and Shigeru can feel his heart thudding in the back of his throat. Kentarou answers before him this time, and the slight deviation from tradition almost makes Shigeru smile.

“And do you pledge to share the love you have for each other with all living beings? To be a couple that lets their marriage radiate into others, making their lives more beautiful because of it?” The matter of love makes both of them shuffle on the spot. Shigeru gathers himself first, making sure he’s looking ahead at the High Priest when he answers, not stealing looks at Kentarou.

“I do.”

“I do,” Kentarou is just slightly slower, but his voice is clearer, ringing more true. Shigeru tries not to read into it.

“If you will face each other and repeat after me: Kentarou, I give you my life. With all that I am and all that I have, I honor you.”

They turn carefully to face one another and Shigeru’s eyes catch on the vibrant silk binding their hands together, traveling up the heavy brocade patterns of the cloak. He’s avoiding looking Kentarou in the face for as long as he can, in no small part because he knows too well that his own emotions won’t be reflected there. “Kentarou, I give you my life.”

Shigeru pulls in a deep breath before he actually looks at Kentarou, squeezing Kentarou’s fingers slightly tighter without meaning to. To his surprise, Kentarou squeezes his hand in return, a smile creeping at one corner of his mouth. It’s not love on his face, it would be foolish of Shigeru to tell himself so, but there’s support there, companionship. It’s enough for the moment that Kentarou doesn’t hate him for this. “With all that I am, and all that I have, I honor you.”

There isn’t a single murmur of sound around them, and Shigeru lets himself suspend in this moment of time, studying the flecks of gold in the intense amber of Kentarou’s eyes.

“Shigeru, I give you my life. With all that I am and all that I have, I honor you.” The music starts up again, slow and resonant this time, rather than a tune that anyone is meant to march to. The priest nods his head, touching his hand to the back of Shigeru’s.

“You may now kiss to seal this union.” His hand drops away from the two of theirs and Shigeru has to draw a deep breath in. He’s trying hard not to think about this being the first time he’ll actually get to kiss Kentarou, and how it’s entirely possible that it may be the only one.

It’s easier to focus on just the moment, even if his stomach is squirming and he feels like he might puke out his own heart at the slightest provocation. Shigeru is so focused he nearly forgets about the kissing itself until they’ve both leaned into it already, and Kentarou’s fingers squeeze tightly around his when their lips meet in the middle. Shigeru is too aware that they’re standing in front of a gathering of people to try anything more than a soft, chaste touch, and even when that finishes his face is bright red. From there, the two of them are led in walking back down the aisle by Iwaizumi, his shoulders straight and hand resting on the sword at his hip.

Once they’re inside again, Kentarou reaches as if he wants to free his hand from the binding, and Shigeru bats his hand quickly away with a shake of his head.

“Bad luck,” Shigeru explains, laughing at the slight roll of Kentarou’s eyes. “We have to untie it together.”

Kentarou huffs a little chuckle through his nose in return, and Shigeru is happier than he expected to be just to have the slight benefit of a smile out of him. Kentarou raises his hand up with an expectant raise of his eyebrows and Shigeru joins him in carefully unwinding the cloth, trying to focus on their hands instead of Kentarou staring at him.

“There,” he smiles, draping the strand of silk over Kentarou’s neck with a grin. “Now we get food and gifts.”

“Right,” Kentarou agrees, and there’s a roughness to his tone, and he turns to walk down to the great hall for the feast without waiting for Shigeru to follow after him. “And then I get to go home.”

Shigeru hesitates at that, and it takes effort to keep the smile on his face where it’s supposed to be. He feels robbed, in no small way, to have Kentarou leaving the very next morning. Kentarou glances back over his shoulder when Shigeru’s footsteps don’t follow after him, tilting his head to the side like a confused dog. “Are you coming?”

Something clicks in the back of Shigeru’s mind, and his nods his head too quickly, jogging a few steps to catch up, and his smile back in place. “Of course.”

 

* * *

Kentarou arrives at the docks before the sun rises, with Tsukishima behind him and Yamaguchi carrying his bag. It seems, now that he’s actually married into the royal family, he’s too elite to have to carry the luggage himself, despite having offered to do so.

Elite enough, even, that the ship taking him home has been chartered specifically for that purpose. It’s a small one, with two tall masts and a crew of a few men scurrying about the decks to ready the ship for the week long voyage. There’s more knights than Kentarou would have expected to see for what’s expected to be a quiet voyage on its own, and Kindaichi is milling awkwardly amongst the sailors carrying barrels between them, looking like he’s not sure if he should be helping or not.

Never having been very fond of good-byes, Kentarou turns to take the bag from Yamaguchi, straining to put a smile on his face. It feels unnatural, and he’s not used to forcing it for the benefit of others. Still, Yamaguchi grins brilliantly back at him, and Tsukishima looks pinched and uncomfortable at best. Yamaguchi bows as soon as Kentarou has the bag on his shoulders, his hands clasped in front of him. “I hope you have a safe voyage, My Lord.”

“Thanks,” he answers, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly and looking around the docks.

He was expecting to see Shigeru at some point before he left. They slept in the same bed the night before—the too large one in Shigeru’s room, leaving plenty of space for an awkward, silent gulf between the two of them, but Kentarou rose well before his husband to get ready for the trip and since leaving the bed after waking, he hasn’t seen hide or hair of Shigeru.

Maybe he’s foolish for having expected that Shigeru would even want to say good-bye to him. They’re nothing more to one another than an obligation, after all. It’s strange, having wedded only to immediately leave and forget about the whole matter, but the whole situation seems strange to Kentarou now. Still, he holds for an extra moment on the docks, hesitating, hoping.

Kindaichi jogs down the gangway to wave at him, looking tired as is to be expected of the early hour. “We’re ready to take off now, My Lord.”

Kentarou nods his head, turning and trudging up the gangway himself, trying to pretend there’s no disappointment stinging in the pit of his stomach. Kindaichi gives him a look that’s probably meant to be apologetic, leading Kentarou below the decks to the room set aside for him to occupy. It's a surprise when he enters the room to find that he apparently doesn't have it to himself. There's three large looking trunks sitting in the corner of the room that definitely don't belong to Kentarou. He blinks as he stares at them, before looking over his shoulder at Kindaichi. "Who's is this?"

"W- we aren't supposed to say anything about it," he answers, somewhere between nervous and apologetic. Kentarou's brow furrows in confusion, setting his own pack down on top of the trunks with a slight shake of his head. There's no reason for anyone else to be joining them on the voyage--it isn't like many natives of Westlin are terribly eager to visit the isolated reaches of the north. Kindaichi bows his head quickly, his hair bouncing slightly.

"I'm sure he'll be here any moment. Please let me know if you need anything, My Lord." Kindaichi flees when he's finished speaking, and Kentarou huffs in irritation. There's only one bed in the room, not a shared bunk, and it's not a very large one either.

He sits on the bed with a frown, the mystery of it all distracting him until the door swings open once again.

Somehow, foolishly, he didn't expect to see Shigeru standing there, looking at him with a smile on his face. "I was hoping Kindaichi would show you around before he brought you down here."

Kentarou, for too long a moment, doesn't actually know what to say. Shigeru shuffles slightly in the doorway, one of those awful neutral looks on his face before he speaks again. "I'm... I'd like to come with you."

"Why?" Too blunt as always, Kentarou can't find a better way to phrase the question. He's glad that Shigeru chuckles at it, though he doesn't sound entirely sincere about it.

"We're married. I promised to support you, didn't I?" There's something more lurking behind those words, something that even Kentarou can see that Shigeru is scared to say. It's a bigger mystery than the trunks sitting in the corner were, now that Kentarou's thinking about it. Shigeru is hardly the type of person to leave his home merely for the fun of it.

"That's not it, is it?" He's trying to come up with other possibilities. Maybe Shigeru is going to take over in his place once they get there, or maybe the royal family thinks that Kentarou will return home only to raise whatever armies he can up against them and heroically take back the north from their control. Shigeru hesitates, his eyes going wide before he frowns slightly, looking down at his feet.

"I want to." He says it like it's something embarrassing, like he has to force each word out of his mouth carefully. He pulls a slow breath into his lungs before sighing it out hard and looking at Kentarou once more. The hard mask has dropped away from his features, and this may be one of the few times that Kentarou has seen him look so vulnerable. "I want to be _with_ you."

"Oh." Kentarou's mouth drops open slightly as the real meaning of what Shigeru is saying sinks in for him. It seeps into his brain slowly, dripping like water off of melting ice. Shigeru wants to be with him, and there's not much else that he could mean by it, Kentarou is sure, than in the way someone would expect of a husband.

He doesn't call it 'love', even just to himself. He doesn't dare.

He can sense it though, like a current in the air between them that Kentarou was simply too dense to notice on his own. It's impossible to miss, now that he's seen it. Kentarou thinks for just a moment about constellations, about how he could clearly see the same ones as Shigeru once he traced their shapes in the sky with a finger.

Shigeru shuffles awkwardly in place, glancing at Kentarou and then away like he's considering the best way to flee, and Kentarou realizes he hasn't given an answer.

"Okay." He can feel himself start to smile, and it only grows when a little spark of hope flickers on Shigeru's face. Kentarou reaches out, his fingers catching around Shigeru's thin wrist and pulling him into the small room that they're now sharing. Shigeru smiles as well, his head tilted slightly downward so their foreheads nearly bump together.

This time, when they kiss, it's not a delicate, chaste thing done only for the benefit of a thousand onlookers.

 

* * *

Consummation was not a subject that Shigeru expected he would have to find a way to confront directly. But, with the two of them stuck in a room really meant only to house a single individual for the prospect of sleep, it’s bound to come up.

Or so he thinks. There’s hardly space to stretch in the room without bumping into one another, and sharing the bed without touching would require acrobatics that Shigeru himself isn’t capable of. Instead, they’re forced to share the limited space of the bed with their legs already tangled, one of Shigeru’s arms is trapped underneath his head and Kentarou’s stuck between them, draped across his stomach.

The subject is stuck in the front of Shigeru’s mind. There're obligations attached to being married, of course, and even if the two of them aren’t expected to be having children, it still lingers there. However, there isn’t an exactly a delicate way to simply _ask_ …

Shigeru leans forward and kisses him instead, relishing in the simple fact that he’s allowed to do so. Kentarou hums, closed eyes fluttering open once more as he opens his mouth slowly to the warmth of Shigeru’s. He shifts slightly, freeing his arm and laying his hand on Shigeru’s hip. The two of them are still fully clothed, and with the summer day just dying, the heat beneath the deck is stifling. There’s a small window cut into the wooden hull of the ship, but Shigeru tries to avoid looking out it at the tossing of the waves for too long. Kentarou’s skin seems to radiate warmth on its own, and the light rest of fingers on his hip covers more than he would expect.

Apparently fed up with the way the awkward positioning of their bodies on the bed doesn’t make it any easier to kiss, Kentarou heaves himself so his knees are on either side of Shigeru’s legs. Shigeru ends up on his back, with Kentarou kneeling above him on the bed with a curious expression on his face. It makes Shigeru hesitate, but Kentarou shakes his head just slightly before leaning down to kiss Shigeru once more.

Sitting up on his elbows to meet Kentarou in the middle, and this time his mouth is already open, his tongue sliding hot and damp over Shigeru’s. Rather than feeling caged in by Kentarou's body around his, Shigeru feels surprisingly comforted by it. He lifts one arm from supporting himself to wrap it around the back of Kentarou's neck instead, scrubbing his fingers lightly around the light wisps of hair at the base of his skull. Kentarou makes a small sound against Shigeru's open mouth, his teeth digging into Shigeru's lower lip. The bite is slight, not hard enough to be more than a tingle of surprise, but it hits Shigeru like a bolt of lightning.

He presses his fingers harder against Kentarou's neck, effectively holding him in place, and shifts his legs so his knees press against Kentarou's hips. One of Kentarou's hands, slow and tentative, slides around the loose hem of his tunic, like he's not sure if he's allowed to touch it. Shigeru makes a small sound in return, trying to roll his body though he's not sure if he's moving toward Kentarou or away. Kentarou pulls his hand back, and the two of them split apart a moment later, heavy breaths tumbling out of Shigeru's mouth one after another. Kentarou's hand hovers, not touching Shigeru nor setting itself back on the bed, and a flush darkens his cheeks. "S- sorry."

"It's fine. I just haven't," Shigeru swallows, frowning at himself. It's nothing embarrassing, of course. Shigeru's hardly had the time or the freedom that would lend itself to such experience, and he's certainly not to ask Kentarou about his own history. Kentarou blinks his eyes before nodding in understanding. His hand perches on Shigeru's hip again, light as the landing of a bird.

"Okay," he answers softly, sitting up so he's no longer draped around Shigeru on all sides, and it's a surprise to Shigeru that it feels like such a loss. "We don't have to do any of that."

The placation makes him more frustrated, because now that he's sitting upright it's fairly evident that Kentarou _wants_ to. There's a pooling of warmth in Shigeru's stomach, mixed with his own nerves and the fondness he has for Kentarou, that's making him think he probably wants to as well.

The breath he draws in shakes slightly, and he reaches a tentative hand to the bottom of Kentarou's shirt on his own. When Kentarou doesn't shift or draw back from the slight touch, Shigeru continues with sliding his fingers under the hem, feeling the warm, flat skin of his stomach underneath. Kentarou's lips are parted just slightly, and Shigeru takes the slight hitch of his breath as a good sign, moving his fingers upward until he meets the definition of muscle over Kentarou's abs.

It's not a surprise that he can feel his face burning, but the way Kentarou holds himself entirely still in response, like he's afraid that Shigeru will startle and run, does surprise him. He leans forward more, sitting up all the way so the two of them are almost pressed together once again, rubbing his thumb in small circles over Kentarou's stomach. "I want to do this."

Kentarou's eyes seem heavy when they blink open, like he can't quite force them all the way. There's surprise in his expression though, and he frowns slightly. Shigeru can guess why; as happy as they both are with the arrangement at this point, there's still too much obligation and duty wrapped up between them to be entirely sure of things. Shigeru leans in, placing a tentative peck on the side of Kentarou's neck. His hand winds to rest on Kentarou's side instead, holding him there, and one of Kentarou's arms comes to wrap around him in return. Feeling more bold with the reaction, Shigeru focuses on the kisses he leaves on Kentarou's neck, forming a necklace of them around the angles of Kentarou's collarbone, digging lightly at the thin skin with his teeth.

"You need," Kentarou's voice sounds strained, like he's struggling to hold his focus. Shigeru pauses, lifting his head away and tilting it to the side slightly. Kentarou huffs at him, stroking his fingers back through Shigeru's hair before leaning in to kiss him. He seems to lose his train of thought in this kissing, and this time his hands slide more confidently under Shigeru's tunic, rucking the fabric up as his hands trace the sharp outlines of Shigeru's hips. He's not nearly as well muscled as Kentarou is, but it doesn't seem to deter Kentarou at all from tracing the thin planes of Shigeru's chest like he wants to memorize the shape of him.

The thought makes Shigeru's stomach flutter with something other than simple affection. He nips Kentarou's lip softly before leaning back and pulling the tunic over his head, discarding it on the rough floor of their room. Kentarou shuffles further forward on the limited space of the bed, his hands moving up the exposed skin of Shigeru’s sides only to rest on his cheeks, leaning in and kissing him once more—slower this time.

 

Later, still trying to catch his breath, Shigeru finds for the first time that it’s hard not to be lulled almost to sleep by the gentle motion of the ship. The mere concept of sailing has always scared him, more than he’d like to admit.

Kentarou wraps an arm more tightly around him, pulling Shigeru closer to his chest. The both of them are still sticky with sweat, and Shigeru can feel the still heavy beating of Kentarou’s heart against his shoulder, but the contact makes him smile. His head winds up tucked under Kentarou’s chin, with Kentarou’s face pressed softly into his hair. Outside the small window, the stars are reflecting back off of the ocean, and the breeze that drifts in tastes like salt.

Shigeru is glad to know, without the clumsy waste of words, that Kentarou loves him just as much as Shigeru loves him.

 

* * *

Disembarking from the ship is something that Kentarou expects to be a quiet affair. The dock doesn’t have any name that Kentarou has ever heard, and he has no reason to expect a welcome to be waiting there for himself and now Shigeru.

There’s one waiting anyway. Yuuji is standing on the dock, with Freya seated next to his foot, the thumping of her tail obvious even from a distance. He isn’t alone either—both Kenma and Tetsurou are there, and even more surprisingly, so is Daichi.

Shigeru blinks his eyes at the small welcoming party, tilting his head curiously at the smile on Kentarou’s face before slowly smiling himself. “You know them.”

“Yeah,” Kentarou nods his head, lacing his fingers through Shigeru’s. Once the ship pulls close enough that the two of them standing on the deck become clear, rather than a vague shape back-lit by the sun, Daichi lifts an arm and waves at both of them.

It’s cooler, summer ends earlier in the north, and there’s a slight rise of goose bumps along Shigeru’s arms. Kentarou himself hardly minds the change in the weather; any escape from the stifling heat is welcome to him. The sun is pale but bright, and the vivid blue is reflected by the usually dark seas. Shigeru has a look on his face, like he’s surprised that there’s no snow covering the ground, but instead, green grass and purple wildflowers.

Kentarou bumps his shoulder into Shigeru’s. “We have summer, you know.”

“I wouldn’t have thought so,” Shigeru chuckles, leaning his weight back against Kentarou. Tetsurou is giving Kenma a strange look as he speaks, and Kentarou figures Kenma is probably explaining exactly who Shigeru is.

The ship pulls up to the dock, and while the sailors arrange the gangway to unload the small amount of cargo and luggage they have, Shigeru has his teeth worrying his lower lip. It takes a moment for Kentarou to understand his anxiety—Shigeru is worried about appearances, about people liking him. He rubs his thumb in small circles on the back of Shigeru’s hand, pretending he’s any good at being comforting. “They’re not going to eat you.”

“How reassuring.” Shigeru responds dryly, and Kentarou rolls his eyes, giving Shigeru’s hand a slight tug to pull him toward the gangway. Shigeru follows, though he drags his feet reluctantly. He’s eager to get away from the ocean, Kentarou knows that much is true, and it seems to be enough to get Shigeru to step down the steep wooden ramp.

Kentarou’s foot hardly hits the solid boards of the dock before Freya launches from her place next to Yuuji’s leg to tackle him, nearly knocking him to the ground. Shigeru jumps back in surprise until Kentarou laughs, scooping her up into his arms and letting her lick his face enthusiastically. Yuuji laughs as well, looking at Shigeru’s surprised expression and then back to Kentarou.

“You’ll have to get used to sharing with his girlfriend too.” There’s a wide grin on his face, and Kentarou huffs, setting Freya back on the ground and doing his best to wipe the layer of dog slobber off on his tunic. Freya continues dancing around his feet, too delighted to calm herself like usual.

He’s beset by Yuuji hugging him next, with just as little warning. He grunts, patting Yuuji on the back twice before elbowing his way out of the embrace with an annoyed huff. It’s that, apparently, that makes Shigeru laugh, chuckling slightly at the sour look on Kentarou’s face. Yuuji isn’t disturbed by it in the least, throwing his arm over Kentarou’s shoulders and ruffling his hair with a grin. “You’re supposed to introduce us to your husband.”

Kentarou shoots him a glare but stands up straight before Daichi has to scold either of them, inclining his head in Shigeru’s direction. “That’s Shigeru. We’re married.”

Tetsurou laughs at the lackluster introduction, and Daichi rolls his eyes with a little sigh, turning to Shigeru with a bow that Kentarou is sure is much more formal than the moment actually requires. “It’s excellent to have you with us here, of course.”

“Kenma said we have to call you ‘My Lord’ now,” Tetsurou grins like a cat with canary feathers still stuck between its canines, draping both of his arms over Kenma’s thin shoulders and leaning his chin on top of Kenma’s head. Shigeru turns from bowing in return to Daichi to cock his head at Kentarou.

“You don’t have a title?” He asks the question like it’s the strangest thing he’s ever heard and Kentarou shrugs.

“We don’t really use them,” he responds, and Shigeru seems to think that over for a moment before nodding his head.

“That seems… easier.” He smiles when Kentarou shrugs Yuuji off of him to lace his fingers once more with Shigeru’s instead. It’s a surprise to see how comfortable Shigeru is here, Kentarou was expecting more confusion, at least.

 

The walk from the docks back to the village doesn’t take long, and Tetsurou and Yuuji spend the whole time peppering Shigeru with whatever questions the two of them can come up with.

Shigeru doesn’t seem to mind the interest from the two of them, and Tetsurou even manages to make him laugh once or twice.

Yuuji splits off from them when they pass by his home, and when Kentarou, escorted by the other four of them, sees the home where he grew up rise into view once again, there’s a swell of excitement in his stomach.

But the windows are tightly shuttered, and as they get close there’s the smell of burning phlox and lilac—flowers for remembering and honoring the dead. He freezes in place, and Shigeru is tugged to a stop as well, following Kentarou’s wary gaze to the house without understanding.

Daichi seems to because he stops and turns around, laying his hand on Kentarou’s shoulder gently. “Suga is making sure that everything is ready.”

“Right.” The simple agreement is harder to push out than Kentarou expects it to be, and his fingers tighten into a fist by his thigh. Shigeru’s hand squeezes his tighter, and he doesn’t ask for any further clarification on the matter.

Still, it takes a moment for Kentarou to force his legs into moving again, and when he does everything feels a little colder and dimmer. The door swings open easily to an empty home, and Freya pads in ahead of the rest of them. Kenma pauses, gripping the back of Tetsurou’s shirt lightly and pulling him away from the door. “I’ll tell Suga you’ve arrived.”

His voice is soft and Kentarou gives him a slight nod as he drags a complaining Tetsurou away. Daichi mumbles a rune under his breath and the lanterns that line the main room flare to life, and Kentarou can see a little bit of wonder flicker in Shigeru’s eyes at the casual use of magic.

“When did he—” Kentarou’s words choke in his throat and Daichi frowns.

“Just short of a week ago. We sent a message but we weren’t sure that it would make it in time.” He gestures for the two of them to sit and Kentarou takes the seat he’s been using since he was a child, settling into it and running his fingers over one of Freya’s ears.

He doesn’t know what he’s supposed to say or what he’s supposed to ask. For as long as he can recall, Takahashi Kyoutani seemed like someone truly invincible; a mountain that no man could actually bring down. Kentarou has never been prepared to lose that, especially without the chance to actually speak with his father. To reconcile after all of the anger that he left home with.

He’s surprised by the comforting touch of Shigeru’s hand rubbing his shoulders—so surprised that he jerks away for a moment. Shigeru’s hand hovers between them like is isn’t certain what he should be doing with it, but Kentarou takes it in both of his and presses a small kiss to his palm in thanks.

Daichi doesn’t comment on the small gesture, though there’s a small smile on his face that Kentarou doesn’t particularly want to acknowledge. He clears his throat after a moment, inclining his head. “After we host the funeral we’ll conduct your crowning, as well.”

“Who’s been in charge in the meantime?” Shigeru asks, his brow furrowing slightly and Daichi shrugs his shoulders before pointing a finger at himself.

“I’m really just a contingency plan. Taking over is Kentarou’s place.”

Shigeru chuckles at that, and when both of them look at him strangely he shakes his head. “If you had met my siblings, you’d realize that’s a very odd thing for someone to say.”

“I wouldn’t be respected the same way Kentarou will,” he clears his throat, nodding his head. “Aone and Bokuto are bringing your things from the docks, so you two can get settled in. I arranged a feast for tonight to welcome you home.”

Daichi hesitates before passing a round blue disk into Kentarou’s hand, attached to a thin black cord of leather. Kentarou takes it, closing it tightly in his fist. He doesn’t need to look at it to know what it is—the material is cool to the touch, even with the warm summer air and Kentarou’s skin to warm it. True ice, they call it, harvested from the glacier itself by someone who dared to get close to something so ancient and powerful. There’s a design carved into it, a wolf seated on its haunches and looking up at the stars.

Kentarou knows it well. He saw it hang off of his father’s neck every day of his life, even long after his mother died and her spirit was carried off to the golden halls. Shigeru leans over, touching Kentarou’s hand softly, his eyebrows pinched together. “Is that…?”

The door closes quietly as Daichi lets himself out, and Kentarou uncurls his fingers, revealing the small token laying in his palm. “It’s a marriage token.”

“Your father’s?” Shigeru asks, reaching out and stroking it with one finger. He pulls back in surprise, probably from the temperature of it. “It’s cold.”

“It’s made from the glacier. True ice… it’s dangerous to get, people usually use it to craft weapons.” He smiles, running his thumb over the delicately carved design. There’s magic still in it, lurking beneath the surface of the ice. “My mother made it before she asked my father to marry her. She traveled all the way to the glacier by herself to cut the ice.”

“Your father made one too, didn’t he?” Shigeru asks, and Kentarou’s surprised he remembers the story. Kentarou was still half-feverish when he told it, even if he’s heard it enough times to know the details entirely by heart.

“Out of bone. Usually, it’s an elk or a deer, if the season’s right, but he tracked a bear by himself so he could bring a gift worthy of her.” Kentarou pauses in the telling of the story, considering what to say for a long moment. “He would have liked you.”

Shigeru blinks at that, tilting his head in confusion even as his cheeks flush a charmed shade of pink. “I doubt I’m the kind of person he would’ve picked for you.”

“You’re level-headed. You think about politics, you understand how to do more than just fight your way out of every situation,” Kentarou shrugs his shoulders. “He would have liked you.”

There’s sadness in the realization, of course, like a deep ache in the center of Kentarou’s stomach, but there’s relief to it as well. Shigeru smiles, tracing his finger over the token once more. “I’m glad to hear you say that, at least.”

 

* * *

To Shigeru’s surprise, the funeral they hold for Kentarou’s father takes place just as the sun is going down. He doesn’t entirely know what to expect of such an affair. He’s used to long processions and stiff black clothing to be worn for weeks at a time for appropriate mourning.

It’s late in the evening when he and Kentarou walk out to the center of the village together, Freya chasing at Kentarou’s heels like she always seems to be. There is no black clothing. Instead, there’s a large gathering of people around what appears to be a long, shallow boat of some kind. It only takes a moment for Shigeru to recognize the body inside—even with closed eyes and his face molded soft like he’s in a peaceful sleep, Takahashi looks much like his son. There’s an intensity still there to his brow, like at any moment he might open his eyes and snap at them.

He’s dressed warmly, more than Shigeru would expect anyone to be even with the summer air cooler than he’s used to, and there’s a sword lying unsheathed across his chest, both of his hands gripped tight around the hilt of it.

Shigeru only recognizes half of the people gathered from the feast the night before, and he can put names to even fewer of them. Kentarou walks to the bow of the boat, lifting one of the thick ropes attached to it. Behind him and along the other side, people line up and each lift a rope as well. There are far more villagers than there is needed to carry such a small craft, but they march slowly down the winding path that Shigeru knows leads back to the sea.

Kenma isn’t one of those carrying the ship, but instead he walks alongside Kentarou. He has a bow hanging over his back, as Shigeru assumes is usual, but another clutched in his hand. This one is larger than the one on his back, with ornate carvings crawling across the surface. There’s only one quiver, slung over his left shoulder, and Shigeru notes it curiously.

When they arrive at the sea, the sun is just starting to dip below the water, coloring it in a vibrant hue of orange rather than a dark blue. The first of the bearers walk into the water up to their knees, deep enough for the boat to float gracefully on the surface. The ones in the back lean down to shove it deeper, so that a wave lifts and carries it out to sea.

Shigeru can see, once the boat is lying in the water, that it’s also stuffed with hundreds of soft purple flowers. Kenma steps forward, inching away when a wave tries to lick at his feet, passing two arrows and the second bow in his hands to Kentarou.

No words are said.

Kentarou knocks an arrow to the string of the bow, and after a quiet murmur that Shigeru can feel is charged with power, the tip of the arrow catches fire.

He watches as Kentarou quietly draws the bow back, his eyes focused on the horizon that the small boat is drifting toward, tilting back slightly before releasing the string. The arrow flies in a high arch, a red sparkle in the slowly darkening sky before it lands neatly in the boat. There’s a shimmer in the air of magic and heat before the entire boat engulfs with crackling flame.

And strangely enough, when that happens, there are cheers. Kentarou wades back out of the water with a smile on his face—a genuine one, with the corners of his eyes crinkling slightly.

The walk back to the village, and the enormous hunting hall that’s used for feasts and celebrations, is far more lively than the walk to the ocean. There’s a warm buzz of voices all around them, the sharing of laughter and stories. It takes a moment for Shigeru to realize that every one of them are talking about Takahashi, remembering him with smiles and laughter.

Shigeru thinks about Kentarou and the wedding token he clutched so tightly in one hand.

The thought doesn’t leave him, even as he watches them put a crown that seems to be made of bones on his head in celebration of Kentarou becoming leader, becoming king. There’s a strange, light feeling in his chest. He’s so used to feeling pressured at these kinds of gatherings, to always be proper, so no one would think that he was imperious or ill-mannered.

Here, there’s a level of comfort that he’s not used to. It’s clear that the whole clan regards Kentarou with a great deal of respect, even when they’re laughing with him or slapping him on the shoulder in congratulations.

Kenma sits down next to him so softly that Shigeru leaps a little in surprise when he speaks. “This must seem strange to you.”

“Ah, a little,” Shigeru rubs the back of his neck, turning to face Kenma now. Kenma doesn’t meet his eyes. Instead, he has his head ducked slightly, toying with a pendant that hangs off of a leather cord wrapped around his wrist. It’s bone white, and when he twists it between his fingers, Shigeru can see a cat carved neatly into the surface. “I like it, though. I’m glad I came here.”

Kenma hums at that, his focus still trained on the token. “You know, if your family sent you to watch over us we’ll figure it out. We aren’t idiots.”

That, Shigeru supposes, isn’t much of a surprise to hear. “Kentarou told me that you’re his guard… you’re supposed to watch his back, right?”

Peeking up from his wrist, Kenma nods his head, and Shigeru can tell from the pierce of his yellow eyes that he probably wouldn’t get very far if he tried to lie to Kenma. “That’s what I’m doing, isn’t it?”

“My parents didn’t want me to come here, and Ichirou doesn’t care about what I do.” He can sense the next question that Kenma is going to ask, it’s not hard to guess. “I decided to come here on my own.”

Kenma inclines his head slightly, though judging by his expression Shigeru can’t tell if the answer is a good one or not. It’s slightly unnerving, trying to read someone with a face more willfully impassive than his own. Kenma’s eyes make him feel like every layer of defense he has is being slowly peeled back to reveal his true intentions.

Shigeru just hopes that whatever Kenma finds doesn’t lead to him getting shot from a very great distance.

Kenma’s gaze splits off when Tetsurou arrives to drape himself over Kenma’s back, a tankard with a drink that Shigeru doesn’t recognize inside it. From the smell of it, Shigeru is fairly sure it’s a strong one. Tetsurou hums, nuzzling at Kenma’s cheek. “Kenma. I want you to come dance with me.”

Kenma wrinkles his nose in distaste, rolling his shoulder like he’s trying to dislodge Tetsurou from leaning on him. Tetsurou doesn’t budge, setting the drink down and wrapping his arms around Kenma instead. “Okay, don’t dance. Just pay attention to your husband.”

“Don’t want to,” Kenma responds, but the word ‘husband’ gives Shigeru pause. Maybe he should have expected it to be more normal here for two men to be married since Kentarou hardly seemed surprised to see Shigeru when they first met. Still, to see evidence of it so publicly isn’t something he anticipated.

“You’re lucky I like it when you’re mean to me,” Tetsurou grumbles, pressing his face into Kenma’s shoulder. He huffs a deep breath before lifting his head again, blinking at Shigeru like he didn’t notice him there, to begin with. “You two were talking.”

“Kuro,” Kenma turns, his head almost bumping against Tetsurou’s as he does. Tetsurou leans in to kiss the tip of Kenma’s nose rather than respond to the scolding. Kenma leans back instantly, wrinkling his nose at the contact. Shigeru almost finds himself laughing at the affronted look on Kenma’s face.

“Kenma,” Tetsurou responds, looking much like he’s trying not to laugh as well. “Don’t be mean.”

“I’m not.” The tone of Kenma’s voice sounds suspiciously like pouting, and Shigeru takes the chance to ease himself out of the seat. Kenma’s glance flicks back and Shigeru knows he didn’t escape Kenma’s notice, but he slips outside regardless. There are more people outside, the celebration having spilled from the hall to the grassy lawn outside, but Shigeru finds himself sliding away from them without really being noticed.

Looking up at the sky, Shigeru is surprised. It’s more incredible here than it was laying out under the stars in Westlin to sleep, and Shigeru finds himself staring, studying the lines that connect the constellations. This time, he hears the soft approach of footsteps over the grass and he turns to smile at Kentarou before he gets startled once more.

Kentarou’s face is slightly heavier, more solemn, and rather than ask why Shigeru is out by himself he leans his head onto Shigeru’s shoulder with a groan. Shigeru does jump slightly at that, but he turns to envelop Kentarou in his arms regardless. “Are you alright?”

He nods his head slowly, his fingers lacing together at the small of Shigeru’s back. “I will be.”

“That’s good,” Shigeru nods his head, stroking his fingers softly through Kentarou’s hair. It’s a marvel, really, how quickly this became a comfort for both of them, the simple benefit of being able to touch and not feel awkward about it, even if they’re both still getting a feel for this relationship. Kentarou hums, leaning into Shigeru’s fingers.

“Does marriage mean a lot up here?” He asks, trying to make the question sound idle. It’s not—there’s something nagging at the back of his mind—an itch he isn’t sure how to scratch. Kentarou lifts his head to nod, looking at Shigeru quizzically.

“Yeah, I guess.” It’s clear he’d like to know why Shigeru feels so compelled to ask, but Shigeru just nods his head with a little hum.

“Things are more different than I thought. It’s interesting,” is all he says by way of explaining.

There’s an idea forming in his mind now, but for the moment he takes the chance he didn’t have before to kiss Kentarou with the stars watching over the both of them.

 

* * *

Kentarou isn’t sure why Yuuji insisted on waking him so early to hunt after this buck. It’s summer, and they’re hardly short of meat and fish to eat, and from the flashes that Kentarou has been able to see as their quarry moves between the trees, unaware that it’s being watched, the animal doesn’t look too terribly impressive.

Still, Yuuji is crouched in place beside him, his fingers tight around the firm wood of his bow, and he looks as focused as Kentarou has ever seen him. There’s a soft rustle in the leaves around them and Kentarou eases himself upward slightly to be able to see better.

It’s his second hunting trip in the two weeks that he’s been home, and Kentarou is glad to find that it comes back to him as easily as anything else. Yuuji shifts as well, knocking an arrow to the string of his bow and drawing it back slowly, so it anchors against the corner of his mouth, squinting one eye closed. Kentarou lifts his slowly as well, waiting for Yuuji to fire first.

The string twangs like a well played instrument, and after half a breath the arrow embeds itself into the trunk of a nearby tree. The deer startles, turning to look in their direction before taking off further into the woods. Yuuji groans a sound that seems exaggerated after the prolonged quiet, throwing his head back. “Damnit!”

“What kind of shot was that?” Kentarou snorts, pushing himself to sit upright. He nudges his elbow against Yuuji’s shoulder, making him yelp as he tries to right himself. “I thought you were supposed to have good aim.”

“I do,” Yuuji snorts, and Kentarou points at the arrow still quivering slightly in the trunk of the tree. “It was just… a bad shot.”

He hardly sounds sure of himself and Kentarou frowns at him, standing up slowly and shrugging shoulders. “We should head back, then. Since you lost it.”

“I can find it again,” Yuuji snaps, standing and pointing at the trail of leaves the buck kicked up in its flight away from them. Kentarou raises an eyebrow at that, regarding Yuuji curiously.

“Why?” He asks, looping his bow over his back and running his fingers through his hair again. There're easier ways to track the buck through the forest if they needed to, but Kentarou isn’t sure that there’s any reason to spend the time on it now.

“Um,” Yuuji frowns, rubbing the back of his neck. “Akaashi said I had to keep you busy for the afternoon, and I figured this would um, work.”

“Why would I need to be kept busy?” Kentarou frowns, taking a step toward Yuuji, arms crossed over his chest. There’s a grin on Yuuji’s face, and Kentarou didn’t really expect to be taken as intimidating. He’s never been scary to Yuuji before.

“I’m not supposed to say,” he laughs, but there’s a serious undercurrent to it, and Kentarou huffs at him before turning toward the path that leads back to the village. Yuuji chases after him with a groan, trying to grab the back of Kentarou’s tunic. “Wait, wait! They’re not set up yet!”

“Set up for what?” He growls, turning and grabbing Yuuji’s shirt, frowning and hauling him closer. Yuuji’s laughter tumbles out of his mouth nervously.

“It’s a surprise.” He manages, and Kentarou drops him with a groan, setting back toward home at a jog. Yuuji follows after him, calling out for him to stop. Kentarou ignores him, of course. A perk of being in charge, he supposes, is that he really doesn’t _have_ to listen to anyone else.

The very outer reaches of the village have been ringed with wreaths of dark red flowers, and the sight of them gives Kentarou pause. They’re a special sort of plant, the kind that can only be harvested at a certain patch by the shore of the ocean, miles away.

They’re only used for weddings, usually. Kentarou doesn’t know of anyone who’s supposed to be getting married anytime soon. He slows slightly, studying the decorations that line the streets now. They weren’t there hours ago when Yuuji showed up to drag him off, and as he approaches the center of the village, there’s a wooden arch standing in front of the town hall.

There’s a crowd just starting to gather in the middle of town, and Akaashi and Suga are standing near the archway. Both of them look over to Kentarou, and Akaashi frowns, looking at Yuuji skidding to a stop a few feet away. Yuuji holds his hands up with a laugh. “I did my best!”

“Well, we’re nearly set anyway,” Suga shrugs his shoulders, and Kentarou steps forward more cautiously. The both of them are in formal clothing, and when he looks around at the slowly thickening crowd, the rest of them seem to be as well.

Clearly, there’s something he hasn’t been told about. Even when he cranes his neck he can’t see Kenma or Shigeru in the crowd. Tetsurou slinks out of the hall and blinks at Kentarou before grinning. “Let’s go get you dressed!”

“Dressed for what?” He grumbles, letting himself be herded off anyway. They’ve all banded together against him, it’s obvious, and he’s clearly not going to be getting answers out of any of them. Rather than taking Kentarou home, he’s shuffled off to the house that Kenma and Tetsurou share, to be greeted by one of their cats shouting as he steps through the door.

“Are you going to tell me what’s going on?” He asks, sighing when Tetsurou shakes his head. There’s mirth in his bright eyes, and Kentarou barely resists throwing his hands up in frustration. Tetsurou nods his head to a suit draped over the back of one of their chairs.

“You should put that on, though.”

 

When he’s finished dressing to Tetsurou’s satisfaction, Kentarou can hear music starting to play from the center of the village, and he pushes his way out the door only to find everyone staring at him. He tries to shoot a glare over his shoulder to Tetsurou he only gets a mischievous grin in return, as well as a cool blue bead that’s passed into his hand.

Kentarou looks down at it—the wedding token that his mother gave to his father—and everything starts to make sense. He looks up to see Shigeru standing under the arch, shifting his weight and staring at Kentarou like he isn’t quite sure what he should be doing with himself. There’s an aisle, a part of the crowd, and Kentarou has to take a deep breath before he starts to walk down it himself.

He’s not expecting it to feel so… he isn’t sure of the word. Perhaps it’s the surprise getting to him, because it feels like there’s a lump in his throat, making it hard to breathe normally. It’s silly, to get so excited over a wedding like this—for someone he’s already married to.

Shigeru smiles as Kentarou actually strides down the aisle, his fingers clutched into a fist at his side. Kentarou almost freezes halfway down, when he starts to feel like his eyes are damp, but he pushes himself forward and doesn’t stop until he’s standing in front of Shigeru.

Someone must have told him how this ceremony goes because he clears his throat before lifting his hand once Kentarou stands across from him, the token laying in his palm. It’s carved of bone, and Kentarou can’t determine the source from just a glance.

What he can see is a dragon, curled around what seems to be a star, with gentle wisps of smoke curling out of its nose. It’s delicately carved, and Kentarou can see the small cuts wrapped on Shigeru’s fingers. A smile curves up on his cheek. “You wouldn’t believe how many tries it took me to get that right.”

Kentarou takes it slowly, rubbing his thumb over the design. He can feel the individual scales carved into the dragon, and he begins to smile himself. “You want to do this?”

Shigeru nods his head, taking a deep breath and casting a nervous glance at the gathered crowd. There is no priest or official to preside over the marriage—there’s only the two of them and the pledge that they make to one another.

“You cannot possess me, for I belong to myself.” Someone must have helped him learn this vow because Shigeru’s voice rings out confidently now as he speaks. “But, while we both wish it, I give you all that is mine to give. You cannot command me, but I shall serve you in those ways you require.”

“I pledge to you my living and my dying, each equally in your care,” Kentarou responds, and his voice rings slightly less, still choked with emotion. “I shall be a shield for your back, and you for mine.”

Kentarou steps forward, leaning to carefully tie the pendant around Shigeru’s neck, his fingers lingering slightly at the nape of it. Shigeru does the same, and his hand rests on Kentarou’s shoulder once the knot is firmly tied in place.

“This is my wedding vow to you; a marriage of equals.” Shigeru’s voice is softer, speaking in a way that’s truly only meant for Kentarou to hear, and when Kentarou repeats the same promise back to him he’s no louder.

When Shigeru leans in to kiss him, there’s a smile on his face and Kentarou is praying that no one notices that his cheeks are damp.

There’s music from somewhere in the crowd, and a great cheering and Shigeru laughs, sliding his fingers into Kentarou’s hair and kissing him once again.

And as promised, it’s as equals, because the both of them stand together and kiss, and laugh, and cry. It’s more than Kentarou could have imagined himself having.


End file.
